thed. The " Popular Edition " of Baker's Reading Olnb and Handy 

e. 1, 2, 3, 4 and 5, 50 selections in each. Price 15 cents each. 




Copyright, 1876, by axoBOK M. Bakkb. 



Mrs. Walthrop's B«icheIor*. Comedy iu Three Acts. TraniUted from Qcnnsn by Oeorge M. 

Baker. 2S conw. 
The Fairy or the Fountain. Play for Little Folki. Two Acts. By Qeorge M. Biker. 28 cents. 
Cloiipoii Bonds. Drama in Four Acts. By J. T. Trowbridge. 25 cents. 
Vii«l«?r Si Veil. Comniedetta in One Act. By Sir Randal Roberts. 25 cents. 
Class Dny. Farce in One Act. By Dr. F. A- Harris. 25 cents. 
TJncle Robert. Comedv in Three Acts. 7 male, 1 female character. 15 cents. 
Xhe Wife's Secret. i*lay in Five Acts. 9 male, 3 female characters. 15 cents. 
Xhe Virirlni* Veteran. Drama in Four Acts. 11 male, 4 female charactara. Ketnta. 



^ 



Spencer's Universal Stage. 



■^ 



A Collection of COMEDIES, DRAMAS, and FARCES, adapted to either Public or Private 
Performance. Containing a full description of all the 
necessary Stage Business. 

PRICE, 15 CENTS EACH. i&~ No Plays Exchanged. 



1. LOST IN LONDON. A Drama in 3 Acts. 

6 male, 4 female characters. 

2. NICHOLAS PLAM. A Comedy in 2 Acts. 

By J. B. Buckstone. 5 male, 3 female char. 

3. THE ■WELSH GIRL. A Comedy in 1 Act. 

By Mrs. Plauche. 3 male, '2 female char. 

4. JOHN "WOPPS. A Farce in 1 Act By 

W. E. Suter. 4 male, 2 female char. 
6. THE TTTEKISH BATH. A Farce in 1 Act. 
By Montague Williams and F. C. Burnaud. 
C male, 1 female char. 

6. THE TWO PXTDDIPOOTS. A Farce in 1 

Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char. 

7. OLD HONESTY. A Comic Drama in 2 

Acts. By J. M. Alorton. 5 male, 2 female char. 

8. TWO GENTLEMEN IN A FIX. A 

Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 2 male char. 

9. SMASHINGTON- GOIT. A Farce in 1 Act. 

By T. J. Williams. 5 male, 3 leraale char. 

10. TWO HEADS BETTER THAN ONE. A 

Farce in 1 Act. By Lenox Home. 4 male, 
1 female char. 

11. JOHN DOBBS. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. 

Morton. 5 male, 2 female char. 

12. THE DAUGHTER of the REGIMENT. 

A Drama in 2 Acts. By Edward Fitzball, 
6 male, 2 female char. 

13. ATINT CHARLOTTE'S MAID. A Farce in 1 

Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char. 

14. BROTHER BILL AND ME. A Farce in 

1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 4 male, 3 female char. 

15. DONE ON BOTH SIDES. A Farce in 1 

Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 2 female char. 

16. DUNDTTCKETTY'S PICNIC. A Farce in 1 

Act. By T. J. Williams. G male, 3 female char. 

17. I'VE WRITTEN TO BROWNE. A Farce 

in 1 Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 3 female 
char. 

19. MY PRECIOirS BETSY. A Farce in 1 

Act. By J. M. Morton. 4 male, 4 female char. 

20. aiY TtTRN NEXT. A Farce in 1 Act. By 

T. J. Williams. 4 male, 3 female char.. 

22. THE PHANTOM BREAKFAST. A Farce 

in 1 Act. By Chas. Selby. 3 male, 2 female char. 

23. DANDELION'S DODGES. A Farce in 1 

Act. By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 2 female cliar. 

24. A SLICE OP LtrCK. A Farce in 1 Act. By 

J. M. Morton. 4 male, 2 female char. • 

25. ALWAYS INTENDED. A Comedy in 1 

Act By Horace Wigau. 3 male,3 female char. 
26- A BULL IN A CHINA SS©P. A Comedy 
in 2 Acts. By Charles Matthews. 6 male, 4 
female char. 

27. ANOTHER GLASS. A Drama in 1 Act By 

Thomas Morton. 6 male, 3 female char. 

28. BOWLED OUT. A Farce in 1 Act By H. 

T. Craven. 4 male, 3 female char. 

29. COUSIN TOM. A Commedietta in 1 Act. By 

Geo. Roberts. 3 male, 2 female char. 

30. SARAH'S YOUNG MAN. A Farce in 1 

Act. By W. E. Suter. 3 male, 3 female char. 

31. HIT HIM, HE HAS NO PRIENDS. A 

Farce in 1 Act. By E. Yates and N. H. Har- 
rington. 7 male, 3 female char. 

32. THE CHRISTENING. A Farce in 1 Act. 

By J. B. Buckstone. 6 male, 6 female char. 

33. A RACE POR A WIDOW. A Farce in 1 

Act. ByT. J. Williams. 5 male, 4 female char. 

34. TOUR LIFE'S IN DANGER. A Farce in 

1 Act By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char. 

35. TRUE UNTO DEATH. A Drama in 2 Acts. 

By J. Sheridan Knowles. 6 male, 2 female char. 

Descriptive Catalosue mailed free on application to 

Cteo. M. Baker; 41-45 Franklin St., Boston. 



36. DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND. An Interlude 
in 1 Act. By W. H. Murray. 10 male, 1 female 
char. 

37. LOOK AFTER BROWN. A Farce in 1 Act 
By George A. Stuart, M. D. 6 male, 1 female 
char. 

38. MONSEIGNEUR. A Drama in 3 Acts. By 
Thomas Archer. 15 male, 3 female char. 

39. A VERY PLEASANT EVENING. A 
Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 3 male char. 

40. BROTHER BEN. A Farce in 1 Act. By J. 
M. Morton. 3 male, 3 female char. 

41. ONLY A CLOD. A Comic Drama in 1 Act 
By J. P. Simpson. 4 male, 1 female char. 

42. GASPARDO THE GONDOLIER. A 
Drama in 3 Acts. By George Almar. 10 male, 
2 female char. 

43. SUNSHINE THROUGH THE CLOUDS. 
A Drama in 1 Act. By Slingsby Lawrence, 
male, 3 female char. 

44. DON'T JUDGE BY APPEARANCES. A 
Farce in 1 Act. By J. M. Morton. 3 male, 2 
female char. 

45. NURSE Y CHICKWEED. A Farce in 1 Act 
By T. J. Williams. 4 male, 2 female char. 

46. MARY MOO ; or. Which shall I MarryP 
A Farce in 1 Act. By W. E. Suter. 2 male, 1 
female char. 

47. EAST LYNNE. A Drama in 6 AcU. 8 male, 
7 female char. 

48. THE HIDDEN HAND. A Drama in 6 Acts. 
By Robert Jones. 16 male, 7 female char. 

49. SILVERSTONE'S WAGER. A Commedi- 
etta in 1 Act. By R. R. Andrews. 4 male, 3 fe- 
male char. 

60. DORA. A Pastoral Drama in 3 Acts. By Chas. 

Reade. 6 male, 2 female char. 
66. THE WIPE'S SECRET. A Play in 5 Acts. 

By Geo. W. Lovell. 10 male, 2 female char. 

66. THE BABES IN THE WOOD. A Com- 
edy in 3 Acts. By Tom Taylor. 10 male, 3 le- 
male char. 

67. PUTKINS ; Heir to Castles in the Air. 
A Comic Drama in i Act. By W. R. Emerson. 

2 male, 2 female char. 

68. AN UGLY CUSTOMER. A Farce in 1 Act. 
By Thomas J. Williams. 3 male, 2 female char. 

59. BLUE AND CHERRY. A Comedy in 1 Act. 

3 male, 2 female char. 

60. A DOUBTFUL VICTORY. A Comedy in 

1 Act 3 male, 2 female char. 

61. THE SCARLET LETTER. A Drama in 3 
Acts. 8 male, 7 female char. 

62. WHICH WILL HAVE HIMP A Vaude- 
ville. 1 male, 2 female char. 

63. MADAM IS ABED. A Vaudeville in 1 Act 

2 male, 2 female char. 

64. THE ANONYMOUS KISS. A VaudeviUe. 
2 male, 2 female char. 

66. THE CLEPT STICK. A Comedy in 3 Acts. 
5 male, 3 female char. 

66. A SOLDIER, A SAILOR, A TINKER, 
AND A TAILOR. A Farce in 1 Act. 4 male, 
2 female char. 

67. GIVE A DOG A BAD NAME. A Farce. 
2 male, 2 female char. 

68. DAMON AND PYTHIAS. A Farce. 6 
male, 4 female char. 

69. A HUSBAND TO ORDER. A Serio-comic 
Drama in 2 Acts. 6 male, 3 female char. 

70. PAYABLE ON DEMAND. A Domestic 
Drama in 2 Acts. 7 male, 1 female char. 



■^ 



\w 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 



^ ©rama in JFour ^cts* 



BY / 

GEORGE M. BAKER, 

AUTHOR OF "amateur DRAMAS," "THE SOCIAL STAGE," 

"the mimic stage," "the DRAWING-ROOM 

STAGE," "the exhibition DRAMA," 

"handy dramas," etc. 



BOSTON: 

GEORGE M. BAKER AND COMPANY. 

1879. 






Copyright, 1878, 
By GEORGE M. BAKER. 



SPECIAL NOTICE. 



In answej-'T^JJII^ienL aopTifcupils for a play to which the exclusive right of 
representat/Bh|^ight'"K obtain^d7^i(,9iuion is called to a new drama in three 
acts, by tie author of " Better tuanIJold," Sec'., entitled 

*■*- f 

C04rM4£>£S. 

>* ^i^-"' .. ■■ _ 

This play hd^imt 'oMlfce!re^ip.tSrior) for its three acts, four male and three 
female characters, c3!WMfepfl'Kdern, and time of performance two hours. This 
play can only be obtained by arrangement with thC author. For the plot and 
action of Comrades, see chapters 2, 3, 4, 5, 11, iz, 13, 16, 17, and 18 of the 
anonymous novel, 

SOMETHING BETTER, 

published by Lee and Shepard, Boston. Price, cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cents. 
Sold by all booksellers, aud sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of price. 



Electrotyped and Printed by Rand, Avery, &' Co., Boston. 



CHARACTERS. 

Peter Perchant, a lawyer. 

Gilbert Murdoch. 

Tom Payson'. 

Richard Gordon. 

Asa, a colored servant. 

Mrs. Garfield, housekeeper at Gilroy. 

Annie Garfield, her daughter. 

Belle Gordon. 

Jennie Jov, a seamstress. 

COSTUMES. 

Peter. Acts I., III., and IV., blue coat with brass buttons, nankeen 
pants and vest, gray wig, hat. Act 11., black clothes, white tie, gloves 
and hat. 

Gilbert. Acts I. and IV., light gray suit, mustache, straw hat. Act 
11., shooting-jacket, leggings, game-bag, cap, mustache and goatee; florid 
face. Act III., rough and ragged hair and beard, haggard face, dark 
pants, calico shirt, black frock, no vest ; general appearance of a played- 
out drunkard. 

Tom Payson. Acts 1. and IV., light summer suit, straw hat, red 
curly wig and mustache, gloves and cane, for first act. Act II., dark 
clothes, white tie, green bag, and black hat. Act III., black pants, black 
frock-coat buttoned up to neck, out at elbows ; general shabby appearance. 

Richard. Act I., black curly wig, mustache, dark pants, blue shirt, 
black neckerchief, dark coat, slouch hat. Act II., fashionable summer 
suit. .'\ct 111., light pants and vest, velveteen breakfast-jacket, heavy 
chain, diamond pin. Act IV., same as Act 1., with change of coat for 
shooting-jacket as worn by Gilbert in Act II., and leggings. 

Asa. Black dress suit, white tie, white gloves, except when he appears 
with Belle in Act III. as coachman ; then, white coat, tall black hat with 
gold band, gloves and whip. 

Airs. Garfield. Gray wig and cap, dark dress. 

Annie. Simple summer dresses for Acts 1. and IV. Act II., pink. 
Act III., white, to suit taste. 

Belle. Act I., elegant evening dress of light material. Act II., summer 
dress, with hat and lace shawl. Act III., black dress, white collar and 
cuffs, straw hat with broad band and black ribbon. Act IV., pretty morn- 
ing dress. 

Jennie. Acts I. and IV., figured muslin. Act II., extravagant colors, 
hat and light shawl. Act 111., dark calico dress, bonnet, and shawl. 

This play is so arranged that the first and fourth acts form a complete 
play, or it can be performed in three acts by omitting the third, which, 
from its tragic termination, may be distasteful to many. The partiality of 
amateurs for melodramatic action, however, leads the author to believe the 
stirring third act will seldom be omitted. 



SYNOPSIS FOR PROGRAMME. 

Act I. — Awaiting Fortune. 
Gilroy. — The Housekeeper's Story. — An impatient Heiress. — 
A sharp Seamstress and an astonished Lover. — Tom's Blunders, 
"It's just like me." — The missing Will. — "I'll find it, or .perish 
in the Attempt." — An interrupted Confession. — Belle's Tactics. — 
Too Late. — " On no Battle-field were the Dead evef known to rise 
again." — The Prodigal's Return. — The Compact. — The Will is 
found. — Hard Condition. — Rosy Wine. — The Tempter and his 
Victim. — Dick's Strategy. — Wine works Wonders. — Tom makes 
another Blunder, " It's just like me." 

Act II. — The Lady of Gilroy. 
Gilbert's Inheritance. — Dick in Love. — Annie's Constancy. — 
An unhappy Marriage. — A scheming Prodigal. — The proud Lady. 

— "I have no Heart, but I have the Fortune : that contents me." — 
Husband and Wife. — The Appeal and the Repulse. — "I shall 
hate you." — Tom's Troubles. — The Deed of Gilroy. — Annie's 
Appeal. — Tom makes a Sad Mistake. — The Happy Couple. — 
May and December. — " I'm so sic;k." — " Just like me." — Gilbert 
stakes all. — The new Master of Gilroy. 

Act III. — " What might have been." 

Dick in Possession. — Tom's Downfall. — The lucky Cards. — 
" See how it is yourself." — The frightened Lawyer. — The Wife 
he left behind him. — Conjugal Felicity. — One Glass, " It won't 
go down." — Constant Annie. — Tom to the Rescue. — The 
Vagabond. — " It's come to this at last." — A Late Visitor. — 
Confidential Disclosures. — A Surprise. — " Would you rob me of 
my Wife ? " — The Quarrel. — " Now it is my turn." — The Fatal 
Shot. — " Free ! Heaven help me, I am mad! " 

Act IV. — The Awakening. 

Troubled Sleep. — "His head am lebel now." — A terrified 
Darkey. — The Sportsman. — " 'Twas but a Dream." — Tom's 
thick Head. — " A Message from the Dead." — Dick's Remorse. — 
Rejected Conditions. — " Who is Heir ? " — Tom on Hand. — 
Enter Peter. — "The Paper left in the Box marked G." — Love 
and Law. — Still in Doubt. — Tom takes his Hat to go, but stays. 

— Found at last. — A Fair Division. — "Happy the Man who 
wakes to find that Misery is but a Dream ; that Truth and Honor 
are the Germs of Happiness ; and, best of all, that True Love is 

better than gold." 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 



ACT I. 

Scene. — Hattdso7ne apartment; doors c. opening tipon a 
piazza with railing, backed by garden ; ivindotus R. andl,. 
of door C, with lace curtains ; doors R. and L. Table R. C, 
with work-basket on it ; ottoman R. ; s/nall desk back of 
ottoman. Lounge i..\ small table at head of lounge; chairs 
at windows. Jennie Joy at table, sewing; Mrs. Gar- 
field reclining oti lounge; C. doors open. 

Mrs. G. I'm glad to get a moment's rest. A funeral up- 
sets a house so, it seems as if there was no setting it to 
rights again, — too many people tramping in and out with 
idle curiosity, to look at the dead face of a man who left a 
fortune. 

Jennie. Had Mr. Gordon no relatives ? 

Mrs. G. Only a son, whom he disowned, and drove from 
home five years ago. Ah ! Dick was a sad dog, a very bad 
boy. Had he behaved himself, he would have had all ; and 
it's a very great sum, Jennie ; I shouldn't wonder if it was 
half a million. 

Jennie. Mr. Gordon was very peculiar, but a generous 
man certainly. 

Mrs. G. Yes : people used to call this house an orphan- 
asylum, because he adopted Belle, and helped Gilbert and 
Tom to an education. He never made many friends out- 
side his home, and had but one enemy : that was himself. 
He was too fond of eating and drinking, or he'd be alive 
now. Belle was the daughter of an old friend, whom dissi- 



6 BETTER THAN GOLD, 

pation ruined : they were boon companions in many a drink- 
ing bout; and I think a httle remorse for the part he took in 
his down-hill career caused him to befriend Belle as he has 
done. Tom Payson — you know him, Jennie ? 

Jennie. Oh, yes ! a slight acquaintance : he is clerk for 
Mr. Perchant. 

Mrs. G. A slight acquaintance? Ah, Jennie! your blushes 
betray you. Tom's a good fellow, but rather odd. 

Jennie. They are all odd until they are mated. 

Mrs. G. Mr. Gordon was always fond of Tom. I think 
his oddities amused him. Then there's Gilbert Murdoch : 
he's a mystery. 

Jennie. He's a gentleman : there's no mystery about 
that. Everybody likes Mr. Murdoch (smiles), even your 
Annie. 

Mrs. G. You are right : he is a gentleman. I think Mr. 
Gordon would have been pleased if he had married Belle. 
There was a queer story that Gilbert's mother was an old 
flame of Mr. Gordon, that at the death of his wife he 
privately married her ; but I don't believe it. I think that 
his kind heart prompted him to care for the little waif left 
at his door. 

Jennie. Then he will be carefully provided for, no doubt. 
Did Mr. Gordon leave a will? 

Mrs. G. Mr. Perchant says he did: but, strangely 
enough, after the funeral yesterday, the lawyer was unable 
to produce it, and begged for a little time ; we have been 
expecting him all day. 

{Enter Belle, door r.) 

Belle. Any news of Mr. Perchant ? 

Mrs. G. {rising. None. Have patience, Belle : good 
fortune travels slow, you know ; but it will come, never fear. 

Belle {petulantly). Patience, indeed ! What kind of a 
lawyer is this, who hides his client's papers where they can- 
not be fovmd ? If that will is lost, we are all ruined. If I 
should be lucky enough to come into possession, I'd have a 
better lawyer to manage my affairs than Mr. Peter Per- 
chant. 

{Enter Asa, door r., with a jtote.) • 

Asa. Miss Belle, here am a note for you. 

Belle {takes note). It must be from him. {Opens and 
reads). " Dearest," — what's this ? — "I am coming for you 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 7 

to-night, very early; a stroll in the garden, and all the de- 
lights of love's young dream, with yours, devotedly, 

Tom Payson." 

Jennie [screams). Good gracious ! 

Mrs. G. What's the matter, Jennie? 

Jennie. I — I — pricked my finger, that's all. 

Belle. "The insolent puppy. Does that blundering fel- 
low dare to write this to me .'' I'll have him horsewhipped 
— fool ! {Exit door R.) 

Asa. Now, now, now, jes hear dat chile rabe, an' — an' — 
obsequies here only yesterday, and Massa Gordon jes put 
comfortably away in his sar-cor-pi-gust — poor ole man! 
{Exit door R.) 

Mrs. G. It's very plain she expects to rule here. Is the 
dress nearly finished, Jennie ? 

Jennie. Only a stitch, and it is done. 

Mrs. G. Carry it to Belle's room when ready. {Exit 
door r.) 

Jennie {throws down dress). Oh the villain, the hypo- 
crite, the base de-ceitful wretch ! After his vows to me, to 
hear such language to another! I'd like to scratch his eyes 
out. Just like them all : he's found out she is the heiress, 
and hastens to lay his heart at her feet. I just wish he'd lay 
it at mine. I'd trample it to pieces. {Trajiiples dress.) 
Mercy ! what am I about ? {Picks up dress, and resumes 
sewing.) 

Tom {outside C, sings). 

" I know a maiden fair to see : 
Beware — take care ! " 

{Appears in door c.) And there she is. 

]'ET<i'^\'E. {to herself). There he is, the villain! "Beware, 
take care " — you'd better, Mr. Tom Payson. 

Tom {comes down softly., stands beliind her chair, and puts 
his a7'm around her waist). Sweetest and best. (Jennie 
sticks needle into his hand.) Ow — oh ! {Crosses to right of 
her, rubbing his hand.) That hurts. 

Jennie (rises). I'm glad of it. Wretch ! 

Tom. Jennie ! {Backs to R.) 

]'E^i^iY.' {following him). Deceiver! 

Tou {backing). Miss Joy? 

Jennie. Villain ! 



8 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

Tom {backs to side). I'd just like to know. 

Jennie. Silence! I've found you out! I've discovered 
your tricks! the mask is torn away! Wretch! deceiver! 
villain ! {Goes L., and turns her back to hhn.) 

Tom {looking at her %vonderingly). Miss Joy, if you have 
discharged your magazine of ejaculatory extracts from the 
cheap literature of the day, permit the counsel for the de- 
fendant to ask mildly, {shoiits) What in thunder is all this 
about ? 

Jennie {turns). Have you not, within an hour, written 
and sent a note to Miss Belle Gordon? 

Tom. The counsel for the prosecution is right. I have. 

Jennie. It was opened and read in my presence, — read 
aloud. Now tremble ! Your perfidy is known. 

Tom. Well, I'll try to, Jennie, to please you. {Puts his 
hand to his breast, after a pause.) No : innocence sleeps 
peacefully within this breast, and refuses even to quiver. 
Nary a shake ! Has the counsel for the prosecution — 

Jennie. Oh, bother ! {Turns azvay.) 
{Enter Asa, r.) 

Asa. I ax your apology. Miss Joy. Under de solemn 
provocation ob dis distressful season ob grief an' — an' dat 
poor ole man, you know {wipes eyes with handkerchief), 
gone to his rest — an' — an' — all de rest — I forgot myself, 
an' — an' — forgot to bring you dis note, what came wid Miss 
Belle's. Forgib me, for my soul am troubled for de soul ob 
dat poor ole man. {Sobs, and wipes eyes.) Dat poor ole 
man ! {Gives note.) 

Jennie. Thank you, Asa. {Opens note, and reads.) "Dear 
Miss Joy, Mr. Perchant expects to be with you this evening 
to read the will. Respectfully yours, Tom Payson." What's 
that to me .'' What have I to do with the will ? 

Tom {strikes his head with his doubled fists, first on one 
side, then on the other). Oh, it's just like me ! Jennie, can't 
you see it all .'' 

Jennie. I see you are making a fool of yourself. 

Tom. It's all a mistake, a very simple mistake. Two 
notes, written at the same time, have been put in the wrong 
envelopes. You've got the law, and she all my love. 

Jennie. Oh ! you confess your love for her. 

Tom. No : that's another slip. Just like me ! What will 
she think of me .-' 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 9 

Asa. I can answer dat ar conundrum, Missa Payson. 
She's practise wid a — wid a — horsewhip, and she tinks 
you'll smart, dat she do. 

Tom. Run to her, Asa ; fly ! Tell her it's all a mistake. 

Asa. Run — fly — What, me? No, sar: dis am a 
house ob desolation; dat poor ole man — (IVeeps.) 

Tom. Here, Asa : here's a dollar. {Gives motiey.) Now, 
do go, that's a good fellow. 

Asa. To be sure, to be sure. {Looks at tnoney.) Any 
ting to do a favor ; but I can't run or fly. ( Walks off slowly ; 
at door R. turns, wipes eyes.) Dat poor ole man ! {Exit R.) 

Tom. And now, gentlemen of the jury — 

Jennie. Mr. Payson — 

Tom. I beg pardon, Jennie. You must know I am the 
victim of a fell and fatal disorder. 

Jennie {alarmed). Are you ill, Tom ? 

Tom. Never better in my life. The trouble's here. {Taps 
head with doubled fist two or three times.) 

Jennie. Cracked, Tom } 

Tom. Absentia mentis. Absence of mind. It's very 
common, Jennie. I've got it bad. {Puts hat on table.) I 
never put an umbrella in a corner, but what I carry off some 
other man's. I never put my hat on a tree, but what I wear 
off some other fellow's tile. I trump at cards when I should 
follow suit ; go out without my hat, and get into bed with it 
on my head; step upon a lady's dress, tell her it's no con- 
sequence, when I should apologize ; sing out '* Bravo " at 
church, and " Amen " at the opera ; in short, make myself 
ridiculous on all occasions. Can't help it. It's just like me. 

Jennie. Oh, Tom ! what will become of you? 

Tom. Can't say, Jennie ; perhaps sign another man's 
name, or run off with another man's wife. It would be just 
like me. 

{Enter Peter Perchant, c, with sjnall bag.) 

Peter {loud). Well, well, well ! 

Tom. The governor ! 

Peter {angrily). Mr. Thomas Payson, sir! 

Tom. Yes, your honor. 

Peter. Don't honor me. You're a pretty fellow, ain't 
you ? 

Tom {arranging his collar). Well, as to my personal 
appearance — 



lO BETTER THAN GOLD. 

Peter {loud). Silence ! 

Tom (aside). Silence in the court. 

Peter. When six years ago, at the particular request of 
Mr. Gilbert Gordon, I took you into my office to study law, 
I thought I had a promising pupil. 

Tom. Very complimentary, your honor. 

Peter. Silence ! You have disappointed my expecta- 
tions : with every facility for becoming an ornament to the 
bar, you have neglected your opportunities, and miserably 
blundered. 

Tom (aside). Just like me. 

Peter. When three weeks ago I returned to my office 
from this house, with the last will and testament of Gilbert 
Gordon, and placed that document in your hands, what were 
you told to do with it ? Answer me. 

Tom. I was told to place it in a certain envelope in a box 
marked G. 

Peter. You were : well, what did you do with it ? 

Tom. Placed it there in the box marked G. 

Peter (sneeringly). Indeed! Quite sure of that? 

Tom. I would swear to it upon the witness-stand, before 
an intelligent jury of my countrymen. 

Peter. Humbug ! there's no will there. Now, sir, I 
want to know, and that very soon, what have you done with 
that will 1 

To^\ (scratching his head). Let me see. I must have — 
no — where was 1 going — oh, it must be safe — there's no 
doubt about it ; it must be — no, no — I must hav§ time to 
think. 

Peter. Well, I'll give you time. I'm called away to- 
night to make another will. I shall return to-morrow : if it is 
not found by that time I'll have you indicted for theft, do you 
hear. It's infamous, infamous. (Exit C.) 

Tom. Just like me. 

Jennie. O Tom ! what will you do ? 

Tom {striking his breast). My duty, Jennie, — find the 
will, or perish 'in the attempt. Where's my hat ? (Seizes 
basket on table, and puts it on his head; spools of cotton atid 
other articles fall out.) 

Jennie. O Tom, my basket ! it's ruined. 

Tom (drops basket, seizes hat, and runs to c). Just like 
me. {Exit C.) 



BETTER THAN GOLD. II 

Jennie {picking up articles and basket). The crazy-head ! 
I'm afraid he'll never be a great lawyer like Mr. Perchant. 
No matter : I think he loves me, and a heart full of love is 
better than a head full of law. {Takes dress, and exit door 

R.) 

{Enter c. Gilbert and Annie.) 

Annie. I've had a delightful walk. 

Gilbert. And so have I, thanks to good company. 

Annie {goes to lounge, and sits). There cannot be a more 
charming spot in the whole world than Gilroy. Mr. Gordon 
has spared no expense in adorning it, and its natural beau- 
ties are just lovely. 

Gilbert {lea>is on chair at table). Yes, there are few 
places can equal it. I hope its lucky possessor will have the 
good taste to preserve it. 

Annie. And who do you think will be its lucky posses- 
sor ? 

Gilbert. Belle, of course. 

Annie. I do not agree with you. Mr. Gordon was fond 
of her ; but so he was of Tom Payson and you. He was 
equally generous with all. Why should he not in his will 
have been equally impartial ? 

Gilbert. Because both Tom and myself have been told 
time and again we must have no expectations in that direc- 
tion. 

Annie. But perhaps, should Belle be the heiress, you 
might still be the lucky possessor. 

Gilbert. Impossible. That is not kind of you, Annie. 

Annie. I do not understand. 

Gilbert. I understand you. You think that I might 
win Belle ? 

Annie. Yes. 

Gilbert. I have tried and failed. 

A^'Hi'E. {rising confused). O Gilbert! — Mr. Murdoch — 
I never dreamed — 

Gilbert. Be seated one moment, please. (Annie sits.) 
I want to confess to you, because {smiles) I may want to 
confess again. When I returned from college five years 
ago, after Richard Gordon had been sent adrift, it was Mr. 
Gordon's wish that I should marry Belle. Well, I was 
young, heart-whole ; and being grateful to Mr. Gordon for 
his kindness, desirous of pleasing him, and being attracted 



12 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

by the beauty of Belle, wooed her. When I believed she 
loved ine, I spoke, asked her to be my wife. She refused 
me, laughed at my passion, and vowed she would never 
marry. 

Annie. Oh ! but perhaps she has changed her mind, now 
you are better acquainted. 

Gilbert. Too late, for I have changed now. Annie, do 
you believe in second love ? 

Annie. I believe I — how could I — 

Gilbert. I think every man experiences two loves in a 
lifetime. The first is a glamour, a wild intoxication ; the 
second, a pure steady flame, brightening and warming every 
fibre of his being. That love has come to me now, — kin- 
dled by the bright eyes of a sweet girl, whose life is gentle 
and simple, whose hand dispenes charity, whose heart warms 
to the needy and distressed. Annie, shall I tell you her 
name .'' {Bends over her.) 

{E)tier Belle, door R.) 

Belle. Dear me ! have I interrupted a tete-a-tete 'i 

Gilbert {rising quickly). Oh, no ! come in. {Crosses 

tOK.) 

Annie {rises). I must run and find mother. Have you 
seen her. Belle..'' 

Belle. She is in my room. 

Annie. Oh, thank you ! {Runs off, door R.) 

Belle {aside). Very suspicious ! {Comes -down to lounge, 
and sits.) Gilbert, have you heard nothing about the will? 

Gilbert. Nothing, Belle. I wonder at Mr. Perchant's 
delay. {Walks up stage.) 

Belle {aside). I wonder if he cares for me now. He 
loved me once : if this estate should go to him, it would be 
well for me to recover his affections. {Aloud.) Gilbert. 

Gilbert {comes doivti to table, and sits). Well, Belle. 

Belle. Who will get father Gordon's money ? 

Gilbert. I don't know, but I think Belle Gordon will 
have the most of it. 

Belle. Should you be disappointed? 

Gilbert. No, for I have no expectations. I have re- 
ceived the best inheritance a man could desire — a liberal 
education — from the good, kind, loving friend, who was a 
father to me : the dead man's money I do not covet. 

Belle. What will you do ? you have been reared in 
luxury. 



BETTER THAN GOLD. I 3 

Gilbert. What will I do ? Heaven willing, a man's 
work in the world. What we inherit may be gold and lands, 
the fruits of another's energy and enterprise. These are 
good if rightly used • what we win is something better. To 
wrest from fickle fortune its choicest treasures of wealth 
and wisdom, requires courage, — a virtue that rejoices while 
it battles, grows strong by defeat, and glories in its victories. 

Belle. I wish I could feel as courageous as you do ; but, 
having nestled so long in the lap of luxury, I should make 
but a sorry figure, dropped upon the cold world. 

Gilbert. Better fortune is in store for you : the good 
old man would never wrong one he loved so dearly. 

Belle. He may have changed at the last : people do, 
you know. Others have loved me very dearly, and changed. 

Gilbert (bitterly). When coldly treated, yes. 

Belle. And then I have — it's very odd — some whom I 
have treated coldly, I have learned to esteem when I came 
to know them better. 

Gilbert {aside). Is she trifling with me? 

Belle. You said just now, Gilbert, that courage grew 
strong from defeat : does love as well ? 

Gilbert (rtj/V/d"). Too late. {Aloud.) Yes, Belle ; but on 
no battle-field were the dead ever known to rise again. {Botvs, 
atid exit, door r.) 

Belle. Fairly beaten ! {Rises.) I could tear out my 
tongue for betraying me into such folly ; and the lurking 
suspicion that he may be well remembered in the old man's 
will prompted me. And yet I could have loved him dearly: 
he is noble, handsome, a favorite with all ; but now {proudly) 
I hate him. {Flings herself on lounge.) 

{Enter c, Richard (Dick) Gordon, hands in his pockets.) 

Dick. The prodigal returns to his father's home, but 
the old man is not here to kill the fatted calf. Well, I could 
hardly expect Scripture to repeat itself in my case. I'm a 
pretty hard lot, but I haven't come to the husks and hogs yet. 
Handsome property here, Dick, and should be yours; but the 
old man didn't let up on you at the last. If you get a slice, 
it will be by hard fighting against the old man's will — if he 
left a will; and that's just the point that I'm here to settle. 
{Comes down R., sees Belle, takes off his hat.) Beg par- 
don. (Belle looks jip.) Why, it's Belle ! {Crosses stage 
quickly.) Belle, my beauty. 



14 BETTER THAN GOLD, 

Belle {rises, and takes /lis /lands). Dick, you here? 
Why have you returned ? 

Dick. Why, you don't seem glad to see me, Belle. Why 
have I returned? {Moc/iingly.) The 'old man can't drive 
me out again, you know. 

Belle. Don't speak so of the dead, Dick. 

Dick. Why not.'' it's the truth, ain't it? He's dead 
and buried, and I'm glad of it. Did he make a will, Belle ? 

Belle. He did. 

Dick. Then the jig's up, as far as I am concerned. 
Curse him ! a flinty-hearted old villain. 

Belle. Richard Gordon, 1 will not have such language. 

Dick. All right. Belle : it's mighty mean to kick a 
man when he's down ; and he's deep down, you bet. Belle, 
you're just a beauty, you are. Who gets the money? 

Belle. That I do not know. The will has not been 
read: it has been mislaid. 

Dick., Perhaps lost. Ah! a gleam of sunshine at last. 
Lost ! I am the heir to the old man's wealth. Gold, lands, 
mine ! O Belle ! we'll enjoy life. 

Belle. We? 

Dick. To be sure. Have you forgotten the stolen 
interview in the garden, the night the old man kicked me out 
of doors, — your promise, "Come good or ill, I will be 
your wife " ? You are not going back on me, Belle, are you? 

Belle {agitated). No, no, Dick: if the will is lost — 

Dick. Well, suppose it's found : who inherits ? You, 
of course ; and you will share with me, as I would share with 
you. I've seen hard times, Belle. Luck yesterday, ruin to- 
day : it makes no difference. 1 always had a light ahead, — ■ 
your love for me. I knew you would crawl into the old 
man's affections, and one day 1 should have my rights. 

'Q^lA.^ {agitated). Yes — but, Dick — 

Dick. Belle, you love me still ? 

Belle {wit/i an effort). Can you doubt me ? 
{Enter Gilbert r.) 

Gilbert. What ! Dick ? Old boy, welcome home ! 

Dick. Ah, Gil! {T/iey s/iake /londs warmly in c. of 
stage.) Back again, you see, — a very bad penny. (Belle 
goes to lounge. Gilbert and Richard converse i}i dumb 
s/iow.) 

Belle {aside). I doubt myself. Money and position, 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 1 5 

that I crave, these I must have ; but love, there's none to 
give. I doubt if my heart is capable of such a passion. 
{Enter Jennie r.) 

Jennie. Tom Payson is running up the avenue. What 
can be the matter.'' {Goes to door c. Enter Mrs. Garfield 
and Annie, door c.) 

Mrs. G. What! Dick, you here again? {Q,ylw£.v.t crosses 
to Belle.) 

Dick {goes to her, and shakes hands). Yes, old lady, to 
taste your excellent pies. And here's Annie. {Shakes hands 
-with her.) My little playmate's quite a woman. 

Annie. Welcome, Dick, welcome home. 
{Enter AsA, door R.) 

Asa. Wha's de fire .'' Wha's de fire ? Tom Payson a- 
running like de — whew ! I almos' said it, an' — an' dat poor 
ole man jes gone. 

Dick. Asa, you black ace, you trump of darkies, how 
are you ? 

Asa. De Lor' bress us, if dat ain't massa Dick ! {Shakes 
hands with Dick.) An' — an' your poor ole father's gone. 
Poor ole man ! Massa Dick, I did love dat a ole man ; he 
was de best massa ever I seed. Why ! jes de day afore he 
died, I was down da in de park fishing, an' he came along 
an' spoke to me. Nothin' proud or stuck-up about him. 
Poor ole man ! he spoke to me. 

Dick. Well, what did he say .? 

Asa. Tole me to get out of the way, jes as natural as ef 
he wasn't a-goin' to die de next day. Yes, he did; an' den 
he died, an' left dis poor ole darky — jooor ole man. 

Jennie {at door). Here's Tom. 

{Enter Tom c, pjiffijtg.) 

Tom. It's all right: the will is found. For once I have 
got the better of my sagaciqus but near-sighted employer. 
The will was safely stowed away in the box marked G, and 
here it is. {Holds up %vill) 

Dick. Let's hear it. 

Tom. Hallo, Dick, old boy! have you turned up? {Shakes 
hands.) 

Dick. Yes, Tom. How are you? 

Tom. Hearty, Dick, hearty. 

Dick. Now let's hear this will ; read it. 

Tom. No, that would not be right : the governor is 



I 6 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

» 
named as executor, and he is the party who should read it. 
I have taken the Hberty of acquainting myself with its con- 
tents ; and, though I may not read, there's no harm in giving 
you its contents. {Puts his hat OJi table at head of lotinge.) 

Dick (r.). Of course not. 

Tom (c). Well, then, Dick, you are the first party men- 
tioned in the will. 

Dick. Ah! To what extent? 

Tom. One dollar. 

Dick. Disinherited, curse him ! 

Tom. Our good friend Mrs. Gaylord comes in for her 
share of ten thousand dollars. 

Mrs. G. (r. c). How kind, bless him ! 

Tom. Your humble servant for a like sum; and all the 
remainder of his estate, real and personal, is bequeathed to — 

All. Who .? 

Tom. Gilbert Murdoch. 

Belle. To him ? ) 

Gilbert. To me .'' ■- together. 

Dick. Fraud ! ) 

Tom. On condition that he marries Belle Gordon. 

Belle. Indeed! 

Y)\cv.. {aside). Never! 

Tom. No : I haven't stated that just right. Gilbert and 
Belle are to have the property, provided they marry : either 
party declining the alliance, the other is to inherit. 

Dick {lively). Ah ! that's better : the old man's head was 
level. 

Belle {aside). I am safe. ( Goes tip stage.) 

Gilbert {stands l. with his arms folded). My decision 
will be quickly made. 

Dick {crossing to Gilbert, gives hand). I congratulate 
you, old fellow : next to myself, no one better deserves it. 

Gilbert. Don't be in a hurry, Dick. {They converse 
together) 

Asa {comes down to Tom). Ax your pardon, Massa Pay- 
son : I'm a leetle hard of hearing. Did — did — I hear my 
name mentioned ? 

Tom. Very sorry to say, Asa, your name is not men- 
tioned in the will. 

Asa. What ! didn't de ole man leave me noffin ? 

Tom. Nothing, Asa. {Goes up stage to Jennie.) 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 1 7 

Asa (aside). An' — an' — I've been weeping, and jes for 
nothing. Dat ole man was mean, he was, after all I've done 
for him, brack his boots, dust his coat — poor ole man! — ■ 
poor ole fool, dat's jes what he was: I'll put no more inde- 
pindance on such ole buffers. Dere's one ting : he can't get 
fro de eye ob a needle ; he's stuck da ; his goose got to be 
cooked. (Goes up stage.) 

Dick {goes up stage to Belle). You'll be true, Belle ? 

Belle. I'll be true — {aside) to my own interests. {Exit, 
door L.) 

Mrs. G. Come, Annie : we must prepare a room for 
Master Dick. {Exit, door R.) 

Annie. Yes, mother. {Crosses to Gilbert l.) Good- 
night, Gilbert. 

Gilbert. Good-night, Annie. {Takes her hand.) 

Annie. I congratulate you. 

Gilbert {puts arm about her waist, and leads her up to 
door r). Not now, Annie : you shall do that when you find 
I am true {she looks tip at him) to myself. Good-night. 
{Exit Annie R. Gilbert goes to lounge.) 

Jennie. You're sure you've made no mistake about the 
will, Tom ? 

Tom. I am so sure, that I feel frightened. When I feel 
I am doing my best, I blunder. It's just Hke me ! 

Jennie. If you've blundered now, it would be awful. 
{Exit r.) 

Dick. Now, boys, let's have a good old time, such as we 
enjoyed at college together many and many a time. Rosy 
wine, you know. Oh! I forget: Gil don't drink. 

Gilbert. No, I never tasted liquor ; but that's no reason 
why you should not be hospitably entertained in your fa- 
ther's house, Asa — 

Asa. Yas, Massa Gilbert. 

Gilbert. Bring wine for the gentlemen. 

Dick. Yes, Asa, the best in the old man's cellar. 

Asa.. Yas, Massa Dick, de very best. {Exit R.) 

Tom {aside). Hang it, I don't feel right ! I wish I hadn't 
blabbed about the will. {Sits on ottoman, R.) 

Dick {moves table to centre of stage, straddles a chair, 
and looks at Gilbert). The heir don't look happy. Why 
did the old man select him? The answer is plain: he is 
his son ; the scandal was true, and we are brothers ! If 



1 8 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

SO, he inherits something more than property. The old man 
was a drunkard. I inherited the love of drink from him. 
Gilbert has not been tempted. Let me see if I can't arouse 
the demon in him, that wakes in me so easily. If I can, then 
my way is plain. {Aloud.) Hallo! You two are mighty 
sociable, I declare ! Ah, here's Asa ! {Enter Asa, with 
tray, on which are bottles and glasses. Places it on table. 
Stage grows dark) Here we have the opener of hearts and 
the'loosener of tongues, — rosy wine ! 

Asa. Yas, sir, {aside) an de breaker ob heads. {Exit R.) 

Dick {opens bottle with a corkscrew. Smells of it). Ah, 
that's the sort ! Rare old Burgundy ! On the liquor-ques- 
tion the old man's taste was superb. {Fills glasses. Enter 
Asa r., zvith candelabra, — candles lighted. He places it on 
stnall table L., at head of lounge; then closes doors c, and 
drops curtains over windows while Dick is speaking.) What 
would life be without this cheery fluid to oil the grooves ? 
{Takes glass to ToM.) Here, old boy; drink to the good 
old days. 

Tom {takes glass). Gay old times then, Dick. 

Dick {going back to table). Gay, you bet ! {Takes glass 
to Gilbert.) If we could only live that life over again ! Here, 
Gil, to the good old days. 

Gilbert. You must excuse me, Dick. 

Dick. That's not sociable, Gil. I respect a man's scru- 
ples ; but — 

Gilbert. I don't know as I have any scruples ; but I 
promised Mr. Gordon, while at college, I would not drink. 

Tom. So did I ; but I forgot it. Just like me. 

Dick. But we're not in college now. 

Gilbert. Still you must excuse me. 

Dick. All right. {Goes back to table.) Here, Asa, take 
the wine away. We won't drink. 

Gilbert {rising). No, no, Dick ! Don't let my refusal 
stand in the way of your enjoyment. 

Dick. I'm not the sort of a man to guzzle good liquor, 
when the host refuses to drink with me. 

Gilbert. If you put it in that light, Dick, I'm with you. 
Give me the glass. {Takes it.) 

Dick. That's the ticket ! Here goes to the good old 
days. {They drink.) 

Asa {aside). Dar's goin' to be a good ole night here, sure's 
you're born. {Exit R.) 



BETTER THAN GOLD, 1 9 

Gilbert {going back to louiige). I have drank my first 
glass. (Dick Jills glasses again.) 

Dick. Nothing'bad about that, Gil ? 

Gilbert. No, Dick ; agreeable to the taste. And, really, 
it warms me. I was getting blue over the will. 

Dick. Ah ! What's the matter with the will ? 

Gilbert. Nothing but the conditions. 

Dick. And that's a mighty pretty girl. 

Gilbert. For whom 1 have no love. 

Dick. Then you are all right, Gil. Refuse. 

Tom. Yes, and lose a mighty nice property. 

Gilbert. I should at once ; but it is the old man's 
desire that we should marry. I look upon it as his dying 
request. Have I the right to refuse .'' That's the question. 

Dick. Well, let's drink, and then consider it. {Gives 
glasses to Gilbert and Tom.) 

Gilbert {takes glass). I owe all to him. 

Dick. , Oh, don't think of it now ! Here's to us three, 
wherever we be. {They drink.) 

Gilbert {excitedly). And there's Annie, whom I love so 
dearly: must I give her up? {Confused.) How my head 
spins ! And this wine, Dick, makes me thirsty. {Puts glass 
on table.) 

Dick {Jills glass again). Then try another. 

Tom {?-ises, and comes nj to table). High old wine, Dick ! 
give us another. (Dick J'lls glasses.) I'll give you a toast : 
Here's to the woman we love. 

Dick. That's good, Tom ; sentimental and joyous.* 

Tom. Of course it is, — Jennie Joy us. ( J'liey drink again.) 

Gilbert. The woman I love : that's me ! That's a glori- 
ous toast. 1 could drink that all night. 

Dick. So you shall, old boy, in bumpers too. Egad, 
we'll make a night of it. We'll make the old house ring. 

Gilbert. I'm with you. Dick, you're a fus-rate fel {/lic) 
er: I'm getting thick, my throat's dry — another glass. 

Dick. The bottle's empty. 

Gilbert. Bot-tle {liic) empty ! Fill it up again. 

Dick. Ha, ha, ha ! that's good, capital. 

Tom. Yes, what is it? Ha, ha, ha! 

Gilbert {staggering tip to Dick, and slapping him on 
the shoulder). I Tike you, Dick ; and, if I had this es {hie) 
tate without an in-cumbrance, I'd divide with you: I will 



20 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

now, — you shall have Belle, an' — an' — I'll take the prop- 
erty. 

Dick. Good, good : I'm satisfied. 

Gilbert. Fill up the glasses, and we'll drink to that fair 
division, your fair division, — Belle is fair, you know. 

Dick. That's good ; but now to wine : shall I call Asa ? 

Gilbert. No: I'll get it myself. Now, don't you stir 
until I come back: I'll bring it. {Slaps Dick on the back.) 
We'll have a night of it, old boy, — two nights, — a fort- 
night : you see if we don't. {Staggers off R.) 

Tom {on lounge). Why, Dick, he's drunk : he is full as a 
tick. 

Dick. I say, Tom, is he in love with anybody? 

Tom. Of course he is : why, don't you know he's in love 
with Annie Garfield? {Sings.) 

" Annie Garfield, bright and fair, 
Combing out her golden hair." 

Dick. Then it's a shame he should sacrifice himself to 
this proud Belle Gordon. 

Tom. Of course it is. 

Dick. I say, Tom, let's have some fun. While he is 
gone, you write out a little document, in which he declines to 
marry her, and I'll make him sign it: won't that be gay? 

Tom {n'ses). I'll do it, Dick : no man should give his heart 
without his hand. I'll do it. {Staggers over to desk R.) 
What shall I say, Dick? 

Dick {follows him, and stands beside him). Write : " I, 
Gilbert Murdoch." 

Tom {writes). " I, Gilbert Murdoch : " that's down, looks 
like a snake too. 

Dick. " Refuse to accept this estate." 

Tom {writes). " To accept this estate." Go on. 

Dick. " On the condition named in the will of Gilbert 
Gordon." 

^oy\.{writes). "Condition — will — Gilbert Gordon." Go 
on. 

Dick. " I decline to marry Belle Gordon." 

Tom {writes). " To marry Belle Gordon." 

Asa {outside). Don't, Massa Gilbert, — don't choke a 
poor ole darky. 

Gilbert {outside). Come on, I say, come on. 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 21 

Dick. Quick, Tom, give me the paper. {Takes paper, 
and comes down v.. Tom staggers to left. Enter, door R., 
Gilbert, bottle in his left hand, his right on Asa's throat, 
by which he drags him in.) 

Gilbert {speaking as he enters). Hooray, hooray ! come 
on, don't be bashful. 

Asa. But — but — Massa Gilbert 

Gilbert. Here we are, boys, and here's Asa. {Flings 
him to R.) And here's a bottle, open it quick. 

Dick {sings). " For we are all jolly good fellows, that 
nobody can deny." 

Dick {takes bottle, and brings Gilbert door c). Hush, 
Gil : I want you to do me a favor. 

Gilbert. Of course I will: wh — what is it? 

Asa {back). Now, now, dat Massa Dick up to some divil- 
ment. 

Dick. You said you'd give up Belle to me. 

Gil {sleepily). Oh ! is that all ? You may have her in 
welcome. Let's drink. 

Dick. Will you give me your name to that effect ? 

Gil. What effect ? Thought you wanted Belle. 

Dick. So I do. Sign the paper, and you are free, and 
she is mine. 

Gil. All right ! give it here. {Staggers up to desk, atid 
sits. TiiCYi follows him?) 

Tom {crossing stage to L.). Something wrong here. 

Gil. Where is the paper? (Dick gives it) Where's 
the ink? {\)\CYi holds inkstand}) Dick, I like you, you're 
the best fellow — {Nods.) 

Dick {aside). I believe he's going to sleep. {Alotid) 
Here, Gil, sign — here. {Places his hand.) All right. 
(Dick takes paper. Gilbert staggers np to table, takes bot- 
tle, and staggers over to lounge. Dick goes to table, and 
watches him.) 

Gil. Here's to the {nods), here's to the {falls on lotingc), 
here's to the good old — {Falls asleep. K%x comes down, 
and looks at him.) 

Asa. Well, I nebber ! — Massa Gilbert, ob all de world ! 
dat's too bad. 

Dick. Sleep, fool, and dream of fortune. We are safe. 
I have his refusal, and Belle is mine. {Looks at paper.) 
What's this ? {Reads.) " I, Gilbert Murdoch, agree to ac- 



22 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

cept this estate on the conditions named in the will of Gil- 
bert Gordon. I promise to marry Belle Gordon." {Shakes 
his fist at Tom, wlio is nodding off to sleep, sitting on otto- 
man?) Tom Payson, you have played me false. 

Tom [sleepily). Have I ? it's just like me. 
Tableau. — Asa back, gritining and shaking with sup- 
pressed glee. Dick behind table c, with uplijted hand 
and clinched fist, glaring at TOM asleep on otto/nan. 
Curtain. 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 23 



ACT II. 

Scene same as Act. I.; curtains draped j doors open; arm- 
chair in place of ottoman ; vase of flowers ott small table 
at head of lounge^ which Annie is arranging. 

Annie. There ! my foray on the flower-beds this morn- 
ing does me credit : that bouquet will find favor even in the 
eyes of our fastidious lady of Gilroy ; and Gilbert. — {Sighs.) 
Ah ! no, no, he will not deign to look at them. A year has 
made a sad change in him. The gold he inherited, and his 
marriage to Belle, have completely transformed him : his 
days are spent in gayety, his nights in dissipation. How 
different all might have been, had he been left to struggle 
with the world! He loved me, I am sure of that; and I — 
no, let me- not think of what might have been : fate ordained 
it otherwise. {Bends over flowers.) 

{Enter Richard, door r.) 

Dick. Ah ! beautiful, beautiful ! 

Annie. Thank you. Red roses and white, with blue- 
bells, make a lovely bouquet. 

Dick. Only excelled by the living bouquet that hovers so 
charmingly about it, — pretty white fingers, lovely blue eyes, 
and rosy cheeks that make the flowers blush with envy. 

Annie {laughs). Indeed ! but you cannot form a bouquet 
without green : perhaps you will furnish that. 

Dick. Certainly ; and, as the green supports the flowers 
{puts his artti about her waist), WQ shall make a charming 
bouquet. 

Annie {breaks away from him). Dick — Mr. Gordon ! 

Dick. Now, don't be shy, Annie : three words will make 
it all right — I love you. 

Annie. You love me ! do you dare insult me ? . 



24 BETTER THAN GOLD, 

Dick. Tut, tut ! what insult is there in those words ? I 
love you, and ask you to be my wife. 

Annie. Never ! Richard Gordon, there is a mockery in 
your tone that belies your protestation : you are incapable 
of love. 

Dick. Annie ! 

Annie. You are a bold, bad man : in a heart like yours, 
love could not live ; were it kindled, it would be smothered 
by your evil passions. You have insulted me, Richard Gor- 
don. 

Dick {gently). Annie, if I have, I humbly beg your 
pardon ; I confess I have been a little reckless at times, 
but since I have returned — 

Annie. No more : you forget we were brought up in the 
same house, and 1 know all your past life. Don't play the 
hypocrite. 

Dick. Annie, you have it in your power to make a better 
man of me. 

Annie. Have I ? Then be assured I will never use it, 
if union with you is to be the result. 

Dick. Do not be rash : look at this calmly. You and 
your mother are dependents in this house. 

Annie. You forget my mother's legacy of ten thousand 
dollars. 

Dick. No : neither do I forget its investment in certain 
stocks, which to-day are worthless. 

Annie. You do not mean it is lost ? 

Dick. Every dollar. I have kept the knowledge of this 
disaster from her and you, fearing it would pain you both. 

Annie. How very kind ! I believe it was by your advice, 
this investment was made. 

Dick. Yes ; but I lost heavily too. 

Annie. Gilbert Murdoch's money. 

Dick. No : it was my own. 

Annie. And yet you came to this house, one year ago, 
penniless. Richard Gordon, vou cannot deceive me. You 
are the evil genius of this house: step by step you have led 
its master into folly and dissipation ; by the gambler's tricks 
you have fleeced him of gold and lands ; you are plotting 
his ruin ; and now you unblushingly come and ask me to be 
your wife, — me, who would lay down my life to save him. 
{Goes up to door R.) 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 2$ 

Dick {following her). Do not leave me, Annie. I con- 
fess all you have charged me with ; but now my love for you 
has changed my whole being. I will make amends for all 
wrongs by a life of noble endeavor. Annie, you have it in 
your power to redeem a fallen man ; but give me one gleam 
of hope for my devotion. You are the only woman I ever 
loved. 

{Enter Belle, door L.) 

Annie {at door R.). For such devotion as yours, I have 
only scorn and contempt. {Exit R.) 

Dick {looking after her). It will be a hot hunt, but I 
must have her. {Tn?-7is, and sees Belle.) Ah! Belle — 
{Ci'osses to door L., confused.) 

Belle {sneering). " The only woman I ever loved." — 
Then, Mr. Richard Gordon, what am I to consider the pro- 
testations of affection for me 1 

Yyicv. {savagely). False — false as the blushing promise 
with which you deceived me. You swore you would be true 
to me, and the very next day sold yourself to Gilbert Mur- 
doch for a paltry fortiuie. 

Belle. As you would have sold yourself to me, had I 
been the inheritor of father Gordon's money. I have been 
lucky enough to beat you at your own game ; and, with so 
keen a gambler as Richard Gordon, 1 may well be proud of 
my conquest. 

Dick. Indeed ! Are you as proud of your husband ? 

Belle. Oh! that's of little consequence: he's a neces- 
sary incumbrance thrown in with the estate. He goes his 
way : I go mine. I have wealth in abundance, pleasures un- 
counted, and comforts unstinted ; I ain envied by all my 
female acquaintances, worshipped by my dependents, and 
flattered by a noble array of fashionable gentlemen : what 
more coulcl a woman's heart desire .-^ 

Dick. Heart? Yon have no heart! 

Belle. But I have fortune, and that contents me. 

Dick. . Yes ; but riches sometimes take to themselves 
wings : should your fortune, what would our proud lady of 
Gilroy do then? 

Belle. Emulate your example, and seek another, 

Dick. What do you mean ? 

Belle. Annie Garfield. . 

Dick. She is penniless : her mother's legacy has been 
swept away by a bad investment. 



26 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

Belle. Indeed ! Then what means your pursuit of the 
daughter? 

Dick. I love her. 

Belle. You — love? — you, Dick? No, no ; I cannot be- 
lieve that: has she no expectation, no rich uncle or saving 
aunt ? 

Dick. None that I know of: I love her with a true and 
holy love, and I mean to win her. 

Belle. A miracle ! a miracle ! The man of the world, 
the ruined gambler, has been snared by a simple country 
girl, and prates of true and holy love. [IVith anger.) You 
shall not have her. I'll turn her out of the house ! I'll kill 
her ! 

Dick {aside). Jealous ! She loves me. {Aloud.) Do, 
Belle ; turn her out of the house : I will seek her out ; and, 
being penniless and homeless, she may be inclined to listen 
to my suit. You couldn't do me a greater service. 

Belle. You shall not marry her. 
. T)iCK {goes lo door K.), We shall see. I shouldn't wonder 
if some clay that little lady became the mistress of this 
house, the lady of Gilroy. 

Belle. Not while I Hve. 

Dick {lai/ghs). t)on't be too sure of that ; for, when riches 
take to themselves wings, the skilful marksman is on the 
watch. I'm a tolerable good shot, and perhaps one of 
these days a fortune may fall at my feet. {Bows, and exit R.) 

Belle. Can this be true? He is greatly changed. I do 
not like this cool, calculating way of his. Bold, reckless, and 
outspoken a year ago, now so gentle ! There's mischief here, 
or else 'tis love, — love for Annie Garfield. No, no ! I can- 
not believe that, I will not : he has no right to love another 
as he once loved me, — for he did love me, in spite of his 
denial, — and I — I — no, no! I will not confess that, even 
to my own heart. 

Gilbert {outside). Asa, hallo ! black boy, hallo ! 

Belle. My husband ! 

{E nter OwMY.KT c, with gun a7td game-hag; AsA door R.) 

AsAi Yes, massa Gilbert, here I is. Did you have good 
luck wid de shootin' ? 

Gilbert. The best of luck. Hallo, Belle ! How are 
you. Belle ? {Takes off bai^.) Take my gun, and be careful 
of the bag. You're looking splendidly, Belle. {To Asa.) 



, . BETTER THAN GOLD. 2/ 

Every shot told ; glorious luck, only the flask gave out. 
( Takes fiask from pocket, and throws it to Asa.) Bring me 
a bottle of old Bourbon, quick. 

Asa. All right, Massa Gilbert. {Going) 

Belle. Send the carriage round, Asa. 

^sa. Yes, mam. (Exit door R.) 

Gilbert. You're not going out. Belle ? 

Belle. I am : have you any objections ? 

Gilbert. Objections ! certainly not : only as I have 
been away since daylight, tramping with the dogs, you might 
condescend to give me a few moments of your agreeable 
society. 

Belle. Indeed! after the dogs, your wife ; very compli- 
mentaryi 

Gilbert {bitterly). Why not ? we live but a cat-and- 
dog life, — you and I. Belle, I'm tired of it : this is not the 
way folks live who love each other. 

Belle. Love each other ? no. 

Gilbert. Married now a year, it's time we're become a 
little better accjuainted. I stopped at young farmer Gates's 
place this morning. His wife was at the door, waiting for 
him to come into breakfast ; and when he came across the 
field, her eyes brightened, and her cheeks glowed with 
pleasure. The farmer, without minding me, put his arm 
about her waist, and gave her a hearty smack. It fairly 
made my mouth water. What should you say if I imitated 
his example ? 

Belle. That "familiarity breeds contempt," is an excel- 
lent maxim. {Turns coldly away) 

Gilbert {bitterly). And the absence of it, sometimes, as 
well. The farmer and his wife work hard, have little they 
can call their own, yet they are very happy. 

Belle. They married for love ; and we — 

Gilbert. For money, a fair division. To the poor, love ; 
to the rich, misery. O Belle ! I cannot live in this way : 
what little, manhood I have left revolts at this mockery. We 
are united for life, we cannot escape. Artful women have 
brought men — strong men — to their feet by false, smiles. 
For me there is no such delusion. It was a cool, deliberate 
bargain between us, — double slavery, with gold our master. 

Belle. I do not murmur : I am well content. 

Gilbert. But think, Belle, how much better lives we 



28 BETTER THAN GOLD. , 

could live with one united purpose. Together we might 
find ways of usefulness in which to turn our wealth, faint 
hearts to cheer, poverty to banish, sad homes to brighten. 
Such a united purpose would create respect for each other; 
and then perhaps love — the desire of all hearts — might be 
kindled, and happiness be ours. 

Belle. Gilbert IVlurdoch, are you drunk ? 

Gilbert. No: Heaven help me, no! through my be- 
fogged brain one gleam of reason has flashed up to show 
me the ruin to whicli I am drifting. I would save myself: 
will you help me ? 

Belle. You talk like an idiot : love has no clause in our 
compact. Had it, I should not now be your wife. I mar- 
ried you to secure what was mine by inheritance, — the half 
of father Gordon's fortune. 

Asa (appears at door c). De carriage am here, mam. 
(Belle _o^^?j' itp c.) 

Gilbert. Belle, one word — 

Belle. I'll hear no more: I bear with you from neces- 
sity. Be careful, or I shall hate you. 

{Exit door c, preceded by Asa.) 

Gilbert {sinks into c/iair, L. of table). Only the money 
binds us: oh, curse the gold ! What a different life might 
have been mine ! she bears with me from necessity ; she 
would glory in my death, for then she would reign supreme. 
She would have it all — what there is left of it: she little 
knows how deeply I have plunged my hands in the old 
man's money-chests. 

{Enter ToM c.) 

Tom. Ah, Gilbert! old fellow, I'm glad to find you! 

Gilbert. What's up now, Tom ? 

Tom. Well, I don't know what's up ; but, if you want to 
know what's down, it's me. (Piits his hat over the bong net, 
table L.) I'm completely crushed. 

Gilbert {rising, and removing hat). That's no reason 
why you should crush these beautiful flowers. 

Tom. Beg pardon. It's just like me. 

Gilbert {resuming scat). Well, v.hat's the matter now? 

Tom {sits in arm-chair R.). Old Perchant has beaten me 
again. 

Gilbert. He always does that. You're no match for him 
in law. 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 29 

Tom, Or love, Gil. You know he married Jennie Joy ten 
days ago. 

Gilbert. Yes, and wondered at it. I thought you were 
the favored suitor. 

Tom. I was; but, as usual, I blundered. — just like me. 
I introduced a money-bag to the lady 1 loved. He was cap- 
tivated, proposed, and was accepted. They were married; 
and then there was no more joy for me. 

Gilbert. But Peter is old, and — 

Tom. Rich. A woman's eyes never see the old when 
there's a letter G before it: that hides the wrinkles. Gil, I 
was mad. There was a suit on the docket, — Crick z's. 
Huber. Perchant for the plaintiff, I for the defendant. It 
came off — yesterday. Perchant was away on his wedding- 
tour. I insisted upon its being tried. It was. I knew I 
was a match for young Gabber, Perchant's attorney. We 
got along smoothly until both sides had closed. Then I 
rose to make my plea, when in marched old Peter, with his 
wife on his arm. I was floored. , Oh, that plea ! I got the 
plaintiff and defendant so mixed up that I couldn't, for the 
life of me, tell which side I was_ on. My client I made out 
a grizzled despoiler of the innocent, and Crick, my opponent, 
a meek-eyed saint; called the gentlemen of the jury perjured 
witnesses, and his honor my darhng. Oh ! 'twas just like 
me. 

(iiLBERT. And you lost your case? 

Tom. Lost it, yes ; and was fined for contempt of court. 

Gilbert. I'm sorry for you, Tom. How's the funds? 

Tom. Gil, do you want me to tell you the truth? 

Gilbert. If you can. 

Tom. You haven't got a dollar in the world. 

Gilbert. Is it as bad as that? Well, we must raise 
some. How about the rents ? 

Tom. You forget, Gil, that you have parted with your 
rentable property to Dick Gordon. 

Gilbert. Well, there must be something left we can 
turn into money. 

Tom. All you now possess is this house, what it contains, 
and the grounds around it. Value, ten thousand dollars. 

Gilbert. Hm ! it's going fast. 

Tom. Too fast altogether, Gil. It has been, easy come, 
easy go, with you. Of what remains you caused me to make 



7.0 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

a deed a week ago. when you were not as clear-headed as 
you are now. 

Gilbert. I ? For what purpose ? 

Tom. That I do not know. The grantee's name was left 
blank. For your wife, I suppose. 

Gilbert. ' My wife ? 

Tom. Yes, I hope so. You are ruining yourself. Some 
•oro\-ision should be made for her. Insert her name, and 
you will always have a home. 

Gilbert.- ' Where is that deed? 

Tom. In the libran.-. • 

Gilbert. Bring it to me. 

Tom. All right. Shnll I insert your wife's name ? 

Gilbert (n'scs. furious\ Xo I Ten thousand times, no ! 
rd rather beg from door to door, crawl in the gutter, steal, 
starve, murder, than give tliat wom^n the power to offer 
me a home. {Crosses l.) 

Tom. What will you do with it.'' 

Gilbert. Stake it for money — for her. Tom. she wants 
no home. She wants money. I am her husband, and must 
provide for her wants. Wjth that deed, the last of my in- 
heritance. I will face Richard Gordon. ^Nly lands and house 
against his gold. If I win, the coffers are filled again. If 
I lose. I have done my duty to her. {Coifies L.) 

Tom. Whv. Gil. this is ruin ! 

Gilbert. I care not. Could I break the golden chain 
that fetters me. I would applv the torch to this accursed pile, 
and dance for joy that I was free, — free once more. {Goes 
up c.) Bring: me that paper. 

Tom. Gil, you are mad. 

Gilbert [turns fiercely). The paper, I say I who is mas- 
ter here ? 

Tom. All right. Gil, Til bring it {Aside>t Now, if I 
could only make a lucky blunder ! but it's no use : my blun- 
ders onlv make matters worse. It's just like me. {Exit doc 

R.) 

Gilbert {striding up and do^'ft stage). It is the last 
chance : I'll take it. Dick Gordon is a master-hand at cards : 
but in this game I play to lose. and. losing, win a trick shall 
cost her dear. Where's my whiskey.' (Rings bell on table.) 
Asa, you black dog, the bottle. 

{Enter AxxiE, door R., "with bottle and glass on tray.) 



BETTER THAN GOLD. " 3 1 

Annie. Here it is, sir. {Places irav on tabled 

Gilbert {starts). You, Annie ? Wliy have you brought 
it? 

Annie. Asa has gone to drive Belle. Shall I fill the glass ? 

Gilbert. You mock me ! you would not do that. 

Annie. No : I am a servant in this house, and owe re- 
spect and duty to its master ; but duty demands no degrad- 
ing offices, respect the commission of no crime. 

Gilbert. Yet you place it before me : why is that ? 

Annie. Answer that yourself, Gilbert. 

Gilbert. Because yoil know I would not touch it in j^our 
presence. You are right : fallen as I am, wrecked in the 
very port of fortune, your eyes have never witnessed my 
shame. 

Annie. And yet I know it all, Gilbert ; know how deeply 
you have drained the cup of dissipation ; have seen the 
power of this wily foe in your household, Richard Gordon. 
'Tis he who tempted you, he who has enriched himself by 
yo^ir downfall, who -will ruin you if you .do not defy him. 

Gilbert. Too late ! Annie, too late ! 

Annie, {comes c). Never too late, Gilbert. Am I your 
friend .'' 

Gilbert. If a lost spirit, groping in darkness, could call 
a white-winged angel hovering afar a friend, you are in- 
deed ! 

Annie. I am no angel, Gilbert, but, believe me, your 
true, devoted friend. I have watched Richard Gordon, have 
heard from his own lips proofs of his villany. Beware of 
him, Gilbert ! Do not drink with him : do not touch the 
cards he handles so cleverly. He is playing a game in 
which he risks nothing; you, all. Shun him, and you will 
yet be happy. 

Gilbert. Happy ? I — no, no ! you know not what you 
say. I had a dream of happiness long, long ago, — a life of 
strong purpose, a love deep and holy ; but I awoke, and never 
dreamed again. Take away the bottle, Annie : it's a strong 
temptation, and I cannot much longer resist. {Crosses l.) 

Annie {^es to table). You will think of what I have 
said, Gilbert.'' 

Gilbert. Yes, yes ; go now, go. 

{Exit Annie, with tray; R.) 

Gilbert. Heaven bless her! patient, loving still, though 



32 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

I struck a cruel blow at her dear heart. Hopeful, — " never 
too late " upon her lips, — and in her eyes the tears of pity. 
I have no right to sadden her young life by my evil conduct. 
I never thought of that before, but now for her sake I'll try 
to be a man again. If I can make her smile again, there's 
something still worth living for. 

{Enter Tom r., with paper) 

Tom. Here's the deed, Gil. 

Gilbert. You may take it back, Tom : I'll not use it. 

Tom. Ah, that's good ! I thought you'd think better of 
it. I'll put it back; but first, to make it secure, let me insert 
the name of your wife. 

Gilbert. My \N\ie.\ {Snatches paper.) No, no ! fool that 
I am ! there's no escape. {Goes up to door R.) Tom, I risk 
all for that one word spoken by you, — wife. {Exit R.) 

Tom. Just like me ! I wish somebody would do me the 
favor to kick me, and kick hard. Nothing but a pair of 
alligator boots, on the feet of a bruiser, could do justice to 
the occasion. 

Perchant {otitside c). Be careful of the ste^DS, ducky ! 

Jennie {outside c). Yes, Peter dear. 

Tom. Great heavens! old Perchant and his wife — the 
spoons ! Peter dear! that's so, dear at any price. Shall I 
run? No: I'll stay, and wither them with my indignant 
scorn. {Goes R., folds his arms., and stands defiantly back 
to c.) 

{Enter Perchant witJi Jennie hajiging on his arm.) 

Peter {puffs). That ascent is very steep. I hope, my 
dear, it did not weary the light of my eyes, my precious lit- 
tle ducky darling. 

Tom (aside). It winded the old gander. 

Jennie {looking fondly up into his face). No, Peter dear, 
your strong, loving arm sustained me : how could I ever be 
weary at your side ? 

Tom {aside). Bah ! I'm sick. 

Peter {clasping his hands, and looking at Jennie ten- 
derly). Oh, Jennie ! oh, sweetest I how I thrill with happi- 
ness as those rosy lips drop such sweet honey. into my ears. 

Tom {aside). Beeswax ! 

Jennie. Don't, Peter dear; don't look at me in that be- 
v/itching way; you make me blush — you do — you naughty 
man ! 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 33 

Peter {with a lotzg drmul). O— h, Jennie ! 

Tom {aside). Whoa Emma !. 

Peter. I — I — I — must have a kiss. 

Jennie. No, dear, not now. 

Peter. But I must; I can't wait — I must — you duck, 
you ! {Throws his arms about her.) 

Tom {very loud). A-hem — 

Peter {starting). Yes, your honor. Hallo! it's brother 
Payson. 

Jennie {feebly). Oh, he gave me such a fright! support 
me, Peter dear. {Lavs her head upon his sJioulder.) 

Peter {putting his arm about .her). Don't be frightened, 
darling: am I not by your side? 

Tom {aside). They don't wither worth a cent. 

Peter. Good-day, brother Payson: have you recovered 
from your exertions of yesterday.'' and how is our dear 
friend Huber? 

Tom {angrily). Huber — hanged — 

Peter. Ah ! you're a sad dog ; a sly fellow, brother Pay- 
son ; but I beat you, with Crick at my back. 

Tom {aside). And in your back — old rheumatics. 

Peter. You shouldn't have brought on the case vi^hen I 
was away on my honeymoon ; should he, ducky ? 

Jennie. No, Peter dear, we were so happy ; and then to 
have to hurry home, to awake from our dream of love for 
that hateful law ! 

Peter. No matter, dear : long days of delightful love 
are before us. You will love me as long as I live, Jennie ? 

Jennie. Longer, Peter dear; your memory will be en- 
shrined in my heart when you are gone. I shall deck your 
grave with flowers ; hang upon the headstone with tears and 
sighs. Oh, Peter! then my love will be the mightiest. 

Tom {aside). Yes, the widow's mite. 

Peter. Ahem! well, don't talk about that. {To Tom.) 
Where's Mr. Gordon ? 

Tom. ■ Closeted with my client, Mr. Murdoch. 

Peter. Oh, yes ! your, client. Pretty mess he's made 
of it. I must see Gordon at once. Jennie darling — 

Jennie. Yes. Peter dear. 

Peter. 1 must leave you for a few moments. 

Jennie. Don't be gone long, Peter dear, it's so lonesome 
without you ! 



34 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

Peter. Only a moment, duck ; I will return on the 
wings of love to the fairest and best. Ta, ta, sweet. (A^/ssc's 
his hand, and exit R. Jennie goes and sits on lounge, 
crosses her hands in her lap; looks down, and sighs deeply. 
Tom, his hands in his pockets, takes C. of stage, and looks at 
her a moment witliotit speaking. Another sigh y/v^w Jen- 
nie.) 

Tom. Jennie Joy, you're a little silly goose. 

Jennie {looks up amazed). Mr. Payson ! 

Tom. Mr. Humbug! What do you mean by selling your- 
self to that old fool, that superannuated bucket of law and 
Latin, — that antiquated Romeo — 

Jennie. My Peter? 

Tom. Your grandfather ! a grizzled old fogy ! 

Jennie. Grizzled ? His locks are golden. 

Tom. The locks on his money-boxes, but not on his head. 
Oh, Jennie ! after all my love, my devotion, my — 

Jennie. Blunders, Tom : don't forget thein. Don't be 
envious, Tom, you lost the golden opportunity. 

Tom. And you found the golden calf. I wish you joy 
of your conquest. 

Jennie. Thank you for your kind assistance : but for you, 
I should not have the present satisfaction of being my Peter's 
wife. 

Tom. Oh, hang your Peter! 

Jennie. I have, — here in my heart of hearts. {Sighs.) 
Oh, Tom ! such love ! such devotion ! " Better be an old 
man's darling than a young man's slave." 

Tom. If you allude to me, madam, it strikes me I was 
the slave, and not you. But now I am free ; I have thrown 
off the chain that bound you to me, and I'm free! , Ha, ha! 
free ! 

Jennie {sings). 

" A hungry fox, in passing by, 
Tra-la-la-la-la-la-la." 

{Laughs) Sour grapes, Tom. 

Tom. Oh, I've no patience with you! I scorn you! I 
despise you! Bah ! {Goes up stage.) 

{Enter Peter r., quickly.) 

Peter {crossing to Jennie). Is my ducky darling pining 
for her Peter ? {Sits beside her, and puts his arm abotit her.) 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 35 

Jexnie. Yes, Peter dear. {Lays her head on his shoul- 
der.) So sick ! 

Tom {crosses dowti R.). Just like me ! 
{Enter Annie, door r.) 

Annie. Here comes Belle. {Goes up to door c. Enter 
'Q'E'L'L^^folloiued by Asa c.) Did you have a pleasant ride, 
Belle ? 

Belle. Oh, so, so! I'm very tired. Take my hat and 
shawl, Annie. 

{Enter Gilbert, door r.) 

Gilbert. Do not remove them, for you leave this house 
forever. 

Belle. What do you mean? 

Gilbert {coming dotun r. to Tom). Tom, for your watch- 
fvil interest in my affairs, I thank you. Your duties are fin- 
ished. I have neither house, gold, nor lands now : I am a 
beggar. 

Belle. How, a beggar .'' 

Gilbert. Yes, madam : I am no longer master here. 
Ypu, who have trod with me the flowery paths of ease, 
basked in the sunlight of fortune, must now humble your 
pride, and seek with me a lowlier state. 

Belle. I ? never ! What means this masquerade ? 
Who is master here ? 

Peter. My client, madam. 

Belle. And who is he ? 

Gilbert. The old man's son, Richard Gordon. 

Belle. Richard Gordon? 

{Enter Richard, door r.) 

Richard {bows). At your service, madam. 

Belle. Oh, lost ! lost! lost! {K^v.ve. puts her arm about 
her. Belle's head sinks on her sJioulder.) 
Tableau. — Richard c, looking at Belle. Belle and 

Annie l. c. Gilbert at table, looking at Belle with 

tritimph. Tom r. Jennie and Peter on lounge. Asa 

in door c, looking in. Curtain. 



1 



36 BETTER THAN GOLD. 



ACT III. 

Same scejie. Ctirtains at windows^ draped as before j door 
c. open J inoonligJit at back from R. ; decanter of wine 
and glasses on table, R. c. ; arm-chair R. ; chair R. of 
table J desk L. c. on line with table j candle burning on, 
desk ; other ftirnihire as before. Dick pacing piazza, 
smoking; Tom at desk, facing table, writing. 

Tom. Finished at last ! a deed of Gilroy; but to whom? 
That's Dick Gordon's secret. I had particular directions to 
leave a blank — ^^ afraid I should write the wrong name proba- 
bly: it would have been just like me. He's a lucky dog. 
No blundering about him. Euchred poor Gil Murdoch 
out of every cent in a year; and now, at the end of another, 
he begins to give it away. I wish he'd remember me : no, 
I don't ; 'twas foully gained, and, though I am miserably 
poor, I don't care to inherit dishonesty. Ah ! the fandango 
of fortune is a funny machine. I've had my ups, and now 
I'm having my downs. Starving to-day on the munificent 
salary of five hundred a year, as Perchant's clerk. A year 
ago a flourishing advocate at the bar. My last flourish, 
Crick vs. Huber, was the boomerang that floored me. 
(Dick throws away cigar, and conies dozsjn.) 

Dick. Well, slow-coach, have you finished ? 

Tom. Yes, Mr. Gordon. 

Dick. Let's have it {sneeringlv), Mr. Payson. {Takes 
paper from Dick, and sits l. of table.) 

Tom {aside). He's pretty well set up with his good for- 
tune, — the beggar on horseback. {Rises, arid leans against 
back of desk.) Does it look all right ? 

Dick. Yes, it looks all right ; but your master must 
come up and examine it, for "fear of accident. {Looks at 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 3/ 

Tom.) You're a pretty figure, you are, to set up in a gen- 
tleman's liouse. How seedy you are ! your coat's out at the 
elbows, your linen dirty, your slioes want tapping. Shabby, 
seedy, and dirty: what's the matter with you? 

Tom. When a fellow continuahy rolls down hill, he's apt 
to get a little dusty. I'm not exactly "the gloss of fashion, 
and the mould of form," that's a fact. 

Dick. I'm ashamed of you, Tom. It doesn't look re- 
spectable, coming here in this way. A gentleman likes to see 
his dependents well dressed ; but you look like a scavenger. 
It's a pity you have fallen so low. But you've no energy, no 
tact, no talent, and no pluck. You were smart enough in 
college. Now look at yourself : see how it is now. 

Tom. We can't all hold trumps in the game of life. 

Dick. You would play a poor hand if every card was a 
trump. You will never make your mark. 

Tom. As you have. But you've had luck. And your 
cards — By the by, speaking of cards, do you remember 
the last game you played with Gil Murdoch } 

Dick. Of course : 'twas my lucky game. 

Tom. a remarkable game, an astonishing game. Do 
you know, I was so struck with admiration of your skill in 
that game, that I fancied that with that pack I, too, might 
make my mark. 

Dick {laugldng). You — of all men! you, the bungler, 
the blunderer ? 

Tom. I did, Dick {bowing ]ttiinbty\ I beg pardon — Mr. 
Gordon : so, having taken the fancy, I took the cards with- 
out leave or license. 

Dick {rismg). Did you dare ? 

Tom. Yes : I made a sweep for the first time in my Hfe. 
And those cards, Dick (bowing huvibly), I beg pardon — Mr. 
Gordon — those cards — of course you didn't know — it was 
an honorable game, you played — those cards were marked. 
{Sternly.) A gambler's pack, made to win. 

Dick {fiercely). Tom Payson, you He ! 

Tom. No : it takes a man of talent to lie successfully. 
I haven't any, you know : I should blunder ; 'twould be just 
like me. 

Dick {carelessly). Oh, well ! it's of no consequence : 
they could do no harm. {Laughing?) Perhaps you may 
make j'our fortune, if you only play them right. But you 
never could do that, you know. 



38 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

Tom. No ; but I might make something by showing that 
hand. 

Dick {suddenly). Tom, I'll give you a thousand dollars 
for that pack of cards. 

Tom. That's liberal ; but I think I can do better. 

Dick {goes to table). Well, let's talk this matter over. 
Come, sit down : let's have a glass of wine. 

Tom. Thank you ; not now. I am not dressed for a 
gentleman's society. 

Dick {stet-nly). Tom Payson, you'd better make terms 
with me at once. I'm prepared to bid high; that failing, to 
have those cards at any cost. 

Tom. Even murder. 

Dick {puts his hand behind Mm). Even murder. 

Tom {coolly). Then I'm glad I didn't bring them with 
me. 

Dick. Coward ! you dare not bring them here ! 

Tom. Right, Dick. I might make a blunder, and give 
them up at sight of the revolver you always carry. It would 
be just like me. 

Dick. I am curious to know what you will do with them. 

Tom. KeejD them as a curiosity, — a souvenir of the lucky 
game by which you gained a fortune. 

Dick. I don't believe it. 

Tom. Well, then, I'll keep them to show me that if I had 
energy, tact, talent, or pluck (all of which you say I have not), 
I might, by exposing the gambling fraud by which you 
ruined Gil Murdoch, blow you, my fine gentleman, with your 
lordly manners, into the whitewashed walls of a prison. 
You said a few moments ago to me, " See how it is now." 
Permit me to express the hope that you see how it is yourself. 

Dick. Tom, you might ruin me with those cards. 

Tom. Just like me. 

Dick. But you won't, Tom : old friends should stick to 
each other. I always liked you, Tom. 

Peter {outside c). Help ! help ! murder ! {Runs on c, 
trembling.) 

TiiZY.. {goes up c. Tom goes to desk, sits). What's the 
matter? Are you hurt? 

Peter. N-n-no, — not hurt, but frightened. Crossing 
your park there, among the trees, a vagabond darted out 
just before me. I thought I was doomed, JDut he disappeared 
as quickly as he came. Whew ! such a fright he gave me ! 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 39 

Dick. It was only a beggar: the woods are full of them. 
They do no harm. 

Tom. They won't hurt you : they always run away from 
lawyers. 

Peter. Who spoke to you, rascal ? What are you do- 
ing here? Why don't you go back to your work.? Don't I 
pay you enough .'' 

Tom. Too much. I am thinking how I may best invest 
my surplus funds. 

Peter. None of your insolence, puppy ! 

Dick. Oh, never mind! Tom's a good fellow, — a little 
queer, but a trump. 

Tom (aside). Yes, trumped your trick. [Aloud) Dick — I 
beg pardon — Mr. Gordon detained me. We were talking 
over the good old cards — I mean, days. 

Peter. Well, start yourself now. 

Tom. Hadn't we better finish the deed first? 

Peter. Let me see it. (Tom rises froju desk j Peter 
sits, and examines deed) No doubt it's full of your infernal 
blunders. 

Dick {beckons Tom to him, r.). You must not leave the 
house until we have had an^understanding. 

Tom. No ? I thought we had had that already. 

Dick. Silence before the old man. 

Peter. Yes, this is all right, for a wonder. 

Dick. If I sign it, and you and Tom witness it, will it 
stand in law if the grantee's name is inserted afterward? 

Peter. Yes ; but it's a foolish way of doing business. 

Dick. That's my affair. I'll sign it. {Goes to desk. 
Peter rises, Dick signs.) Now, Mr. Perchant. (Peter 
signs.) Now, Tom. (Tom signs.) 

Peter. Who is to be the lucky possessor of this estate ? 

Dick. I've not yet made up my mind: when I do, you, 
as my man of business, shall be informed. Good-night, Mr. 
Perchant. {Goes to table.) 

Peter. Well, well ! that's short, after my journey up 
here, not even to ask me to take a glass of wine. That's 
shabby. {Clears his throat.) Tom, get me a glass of water : 
I'm very thirsty. It's a long walk from your house to mine, 
Mr. Gordon. 

Dick {aside). I can't get rid of the old fool in a hurry. 
{Aloud.) Come and take a glass of wine, Mr. Perchant. 



40 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

Peter {rubs hands, and i^oes over to \\. of table). Ah ! 
thank you! thank you, Mr. Gordon: that's good, rosy wine 
for me. Can't stay long: 1 left Mrs. Perchant nodding in 
her chair, and stole away to see that you suffered no harm 
at the hands of that stupid clerk of mine : once he gets a 
pen into his hand, he's likely to sign any name, — mine, 
yours — ■ 

Tom {aside, at desk). Or any other man. Just like me. 

Dick {pouring zuine). Mrs. Perchant is well.'' 

Peter {holding up glass, and looking at it). Never bet- 
ter, Mr. Gordon, — never better. She's a sensible woman, 
a charming woman; a little too fond of my society, — can't 
bear to have me out of her sight ; but I should be a fool 
to complain of that. 

Dick {raises glass). Here's to the health of the charming 
Mrs. Perchant. 

(Jennie appears at door c.) 

Peter. Thank you, Mr. Gordon : a charming toast. 
{Raises glass.) 

Jennie {very lojid). Peter ! 

Peter. Eh — ah — yes, my love. {Puts down glass.) 

Jennie. What are you doing here, Peter.'' 

Peter. Transacting a little business, that's all. 

Jennie {statnps her foot). Come here, Peter. 

Peter {rises). Yes — yes — yes — my duck — 

Jennie. Don't duck me, you base, ungrateful, deceitful 
man ! 

Peter. Mrs. Perchant — Mrs. Perchant! 

Jennie {stamps foot). Shut up, Peter Perchant! I'm 
ashamed of you, to leave your poor wife alone in that great 
house, with cats howling outside, and rats scrambling inside 
the walls, enough to scare one to death. 

Peter. Don't be afraid, my dear: the sound of your 
voice would frighten them off. 

Jennie. Ugh, you monster ! 

Peter {folds his arms, and looks dignified). Mrs. Per- 
chant, respect the head of the family. (Jennie makes a 
motion as if to strike him. He runs down R., holds up his 
arm as if to ward off a blow.) 

Jennie. I wish the head of the family had a few more 
hairs on it — just enough to give me a good hold. 

Peter {aside). Thank heaven for my baldness ! 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 4I 

Jennie. Come, Peter ! (Stamps foot) Get your hat. 

Peter. Not just yet. Tom Payson will see you home: 
he's just going. 

Jennie. What! send him — my old lover — home with 
me? Peter Perchant, do you want your poor wife kid- 
napped ? 

Tom. Oh! there's no danger of that. 

Peter. Mrs. Percliant, I'll not submit to this : I'll come 
home when I get ready. 

Jennie. You will get ready now, Peter. 

Peter. No, 1 won't. 

Jennie. Very well, Peter: when you do come, if you 
find the doors locked, and the windows fastened down, don't 
blame me. 

Peter. What ! will you lock me out ? 

Jennie. Oh, no, Peter dear! only lock myself in, that's 
all. You can sleep nicely on the doorsteps, you know. 

Peter. I should get my death. Wait a minute — just 
one glass of wine. 

Jennie. Not one drop. You have deceived me, sir : no 
business brought you here : you came to drink, — to get high, 
as you call it, — and then come home and break thing.s. You 
mean, bad man ! You took me away from my mother, you 
bald-headed tyrant, and now desert me. I will not submit 
to it. Get your hat. 

Peter. But, my dear, listen to reason. 

Jennie. When you get home. Get your hat, and follow 
me at once. Don't let me have to come for you again. 
{Shakes finger at hivi) Remember ! {Exit c.) 

Peter {sighs). I must submit, I suppose 

Dick. A charming woman, Mr. Perchant. 

Peter {takes his hat). Yes, indeed ; and, like all charm- 
ing women, fond of playing the tyrant. But, bless you, it's 
only play : at home quite another state of affairs ; there 
{pompously) I am master. 

Jennie (t'w/i'/f^,?). Peter! 

Peter {trembling). Yes, my dear ! I will go, just to hu- 
mor her. Good-night. 

Dick. A glass Ijefore you go. 

Peter {goes to table). Yes, one; quick! {Raises glass.) 
Dick, here's to domestic felicity. 

]-E.i<i\i^ {outside). Peter! 



42 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

Peter {sets down glass\ It won't go down. {Goes offc.) 
Coming, my dear ! Coming ! {Exit c. Dick ajid Tom 
lairgh.) 

Dick. She married him for his money. 

Tom. She was bought, and he was sold. I'll never blame 
my luck, when I think what might have been. 

Dick {comes down to desk). Now, Tom, we are alone once 
more. 

{Enter AsA, door R.) 

Asa. If you please, Massa Gordon — Ax your pardon. 

Dick. Well, what is it 1 

Asa. Miss Annie, Massa Gordon, she ax me would 
I ax you could she see you for a few minutes very particu- 
lar; and I told Miss Annie — 

Dick. Certainly; at once. 

Asa. Dat's what I tole her. Miss Annie, says I, you jes 
walk right in dar : de calls ob business always make way for 
de calls ob beauty. But she's sort ob bashful an' timberous ; 
an' so I came for to ax you for her. 

Dick. Ah ! you've an eye for beauty, Asa, as well as the 
rest of us. 

Asa. An eye, Massa Gordon? Two — two eyes ! Yas, 
I'm all eyes when — when dey screwtinize dar eyes on to me. 
Golly, dat's a good word ! for dey jes bore me fro and fro. 

Dick. All right, Asa : show her in. 

Asa. Yas, indeed ; right away, Massa Gordon. {Exit 
door R.) 

Tom. I'll be off. Our business is finished for to-night. . 

Dick. No, Tom : you must not leave the house until 
we've settled our score. Go into the next room : you may 
be wanted soon. (Tom boivs, aiid exit door L.) 

Dick {takes deed from desk). Now we shall see if this 
document is worth the writing. 

{Enter Annie, door R.) 

Dick. Ah, Annie ! You wish to speak with me. Be 
seated. 

Annie {declining). I will trouble you but a few moments. 
Mother and I leave the house to-morrow. 

Dick. Indeed! Is your mother well enough to be 
moved ? 

Annie. She is quite herself again. This long year of 
sickness has been terrible. Many times my dear mother 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 43 

has been on the verge of the dark river; but Heaven has 
been kind, and she is restored to me. For all your kindness 
and consideration to us in this dark year, accept my thanks. 
We must have often tried your patience. 

Dick. No : my comfortable life has been undisturbed by 
the illness of your mother. You have amply supplied her 
place as housekeeper, and. I shall regret losing you. 

Annie. You know only her illness has kept me here. 
The sad memories connected with this home would have 
driven me out a year ago, but for that. 

Dick. Am I a part of those sad memories ? 

Annie. We will not speak of what has passed. You 
need a housekeeper : there is a young woman staying with 
farmer Gates, who desires a situation ; she has good recom- 
mendations, and is anxious for an interview. I have taken 
the liberty to ask her to call this evening. 

Dick. Very well: I will see her. 

Annie. Thank you. That is all. {Going r.) 

Dick. Annie, one moment! (Annie turtts.) Before you 
leave my house' forever, listen to me: 'tis the last favor I 
shall ask. This has been your home for years : I cannot 
see you go out into the world, to struggle with trials and 
troubles to you unknown, without a pang of self-reproach ; 
for it is I who drive you out. Let me make some recom- 
pense. {Hands pape?:) Your name upon that makes you 
independent of the world. It is yours if you will accept it. 

Annie {looks at paper). A deed of Gilroy ! This for 
me ? 

Dick. For you, Annie. I have only to write your name 
there, and it is yours. Shall I write it '? 

Annie. No! {Throius paper at his feet) For, if I take 
Gilroy, I must take its master : that is the condition. Am 
I not right ? 

Dick. Annie, I love you deeply, truly ! Take Gilroy and 
its master. You would be its queen ; I, master now, your 
slave forever. Annie, be merciful ! I never knew what 
love was until I met vou : your love is all I covet ; without it, 
though rich in worldly possessions, I am but a beggar. 

Annie. You seek to bargain for my love. You tempt 
me with riches. You ! In this fair home, already disgraced 
by a shameful barter of happiness for wealth ; here, where 
ruin has been brought upon its rightful owner, — you, the 



44 ■ BETTER THAN GOLD. 

schemer, the despoiler, the felon, dare to offer your spoils 
for my love ! Oh, this is infamous ! {Going R.) 

Dick {steps between her and the door). You shall not 
leave me now: I'm desperate! Your mocking words but 
add fuel to my passion. Annie Garfield, 'tis my last oppor- 
tunity. 

Annie. Let me pass, sir ! 

Dick. No : consent to become my wife, and I swear my 
life shall be devoted to you ; refuse and - — oh, no, no, no ! 
I cannot threaten you. Annie, you must love me in time. 
{Puts his arm about Iter waist, and takes her hatid.) 

Annie. Release me ! do you dare — 

Dick. Any thing — every thing, to gain you ! 

Annie {struggling). Wretch, release me ! Help ! help ! 
{Enter Tom, door c.) 

Tom. Did you call, Dick .'' (Annie breaks away, and runs 
off door R.) 

Dick {angrily). Fool ! no. 

Tom. You said I might be wanted ; and I thought the 
time had come when I heard that cry of help. 

Dick. You blundered, as usual. 

Tom. Just like me ! {Exit door L.) 

Dick. She shall not elude me thus. I must, I will have 
her consent. {Exit door R. Gilbert appears at door c.) 

Gilbert. The coast is clear at last. {Comes doivn, and 
sits in chair i^. of table) This is the charmer that tempted 
me once more to enter this house. ( Takes decanter, pours 
and drinks.) Welcome to Gilroy, welcome to Gilroy ! {Sud- 
denly.) It's come to this at last : only a year ago 1 entered 
this house its lord and master, and now a beggar comes to 
ask for charity. {Fills and drinks.) Here's success to beg- 
ging ! {Sets down glass slowly.) I never dreamed it would 
come to this. Freed from the curse my inheritance brought 
me, I thought I had manhood enough to work. But, no : I 
could not free myself from the phantom of the chain that 
once bound me. I have sunk lower and lower still : I have 
no shame left ; it's beg or starve. Dick cannot refuse me. 
{Fills and drinks) Here's success to Dick ! But this stuff 
is sickening : one good glass of brandy is worth a hogshead 
of this fine lady's wine. A cobwebbed bottle from the old 
man's vault would be a fortune now. What's to hinder my 
helping myself ? I know the way ; and, if no one stops me 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 45 

{rises and goes to door), I'll prepare myself to face Dick, and 
beg. He cannot deny an old friend a few of the crumbs that 
fall from his table. {Exit R.) 

{Enter Belle, door c.) 

Belle. Annie Garfield little thought her message was 
for my ears, — that the once proud lady of Gilroy was so poor, 
that she must stoop to ask the position of housekeeper in 
the home where once she reigned supreme. She Httle 
knows 'tis but the first step to regain my lost position. 
Richard Gordon once loved me. Deserted by the wretch 
I once called husband, means can be found to make me 
free again. Once I gain a footing in this house, its master 
shall be brought back to his old allegiance. 'Tis no easy 
task, but the rich reward is worth the venture. 
{Enter Dick, door R.) 

Dick. She will not listen to me. {Sees Belle.) Belle, 
Mrs. Murdoch ! 

Belle. Good-evening, Mr. Gordon. I received your 
message. 

Dick. My message ! I do not understand. 

Belle. Probably not ; because Annie Garfield was igno- 
rant that the person who desires the situation of house- 
keeper and I are the same person. 

Dick. You my housekeeper? Impossible! 

Belle. I hope not, Mr. Gordon. I am very poor. My 
husband has deserted me. I need the place, and would 
serve you faithfully. Will you not give me a trial ? 

Dick. Why, this is the very luxury of revenge. You, 
Belle, the proud lady of Gilroy, humbly begging a menial 
situation of me, whom you betrayed for wealth and station. 
I am amply repaid now for my slighted love. 

Belle. All that is past : you told me you never loved 
me, and I believed you. I only ask now for daily bread. 
How much I need it, you can guess, when I am driven to 
beg of you. ( IVeeps.) 

Dick. Where is your husband ? 
(Gilbert enters, door R., sees Belle, starts, and steps back 
in doorway, ho/ding door open, a'nd looking in) 

Belle. I know not ; I care not : it was the error of my 
life when I consented to be his wife. 

Dick. You are right; for that made him my enemy. 
When he took from me the woman I loved, — yes, Belle, I 



46 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

did love you, — revenge took the place of friendship ; and I 
paused not until I had stripped him of all that attracted you. 

Belle. If you had gone one step farther, and killed him, 
I should have been content. 

Dick. That would have been a crime. 

Belle. And is it not a crime to rob another with gam- 
bling tricks, to cheat with false cards, to defraud 1 

Dick. Belle ! 

Belle. I know all, knew it then, but kept my lips 
closed for your sake. I was your accomplice, for I hated 
your victim. 

Dick. Belle, do you speak the truth? You knew all, and 
never betrayed me : why was this 1 

Belle. Can you not guess ? 

Dick. No/ 

(Gilbert steps in at C.) 

Gilbert. But I can. 

Dick. Gilbert Murdoch ! 

Belle. My husband ! 

Gilbert. Yes, Dick Gordon : this riddle is easily solved. 
This proud, beautiful beggar — my wife — loves you, — you, 
the noble master of Gilroy, the villain and the cheat. 

Dick. Beggar, do you dare "i 

Gilbert. Dare? What have I to fear? You, the des- 
perado, play for fortunes, scheme for fortunes. I am a beg- 
gar. I have nothing in the world but this fair woman, who 
is still my wife. Would you rob me of her ? is she worth 
the crime ? 

Dick {sneeritigly). Perhaps. 

Gilbert. Perhaps fit mate for you — scoundrel. 

Belle. Oh, this is shameful ! 

Gilbert. Right, my wife. I owe you much : you made 
my hfe so happy, you are such a noble mistress of my 
house ! I could not be a man, and see you suffer such a 
fate. This man must die, and I will kill him. 

Belle. No, no ! 

Dick. Leave my house ! you are drunk. 

Gilbert. You he ! 'tis my house. Your father gave it to 
me. 'Tis you who are the intruder. Begone ! {Approach- 
ing Jiiin threateningly^ 

l^icK {produces revolver). Stand back! another step, 
and I fire. 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 4/ 

Gilbert {fiirioiis). My life or yours ! {Rushes atid seizes 
his arm; pistol explodes in the air.) 'Tis now my turn. 
{Wrenches pistol from his hand, and goes to L.) 

Dick. Madman ! what would you do ? 

Gilbert. Kill you, Dick. {Raises pistol.) 

Belle {rushes up and throzus her arm about Dick). No, 
no ! I love him. (Gilbert fires. Belle staggers and falls. 
Tom runs in, door L., a}id lifts her head. Gilbert goes up 
to door c.) 

Gilbert. Ah ! what have I done ? 

Dick (r.). You have murdered your wife : you are free at 
last. 

Gilbert. Free ! Heaven help me ! I am mad. 
{Curtain^ 



48 BETTER THAN GOLD. 



ACT IV. 

Scene same as at the end of Act I. Door closed; curtains 
down. Table with glasses and bottles on it., R. c. Gil- 
bert asleep on lounge; ToM asleep on the fioor^ with his 
feet on the ottoman. Enter ASA, R., softly. 

Asa. Whew ! Dar's a powerful odor of de fermented 
juice ob de grape in dis yer ar. Must 'a' had a high ole time 
las' night. (Comes down, and looks at To'si.) Dar's Massa 
Tom, gone to bed wid his boots on ; his head am lebel now, 
shure nuff. {Crosses over to Gilbert.) Poor Massa Gil- 
bert! No: he's rich Massa Gilbert now; but he'll feel awful 
poor when he wakes up. 

Gilbert [throws his arms, and mutters). Oh ! villain ! 
villain ! 

Asa. Eh? can't mean me : he's talkin' to hisself. Well, 
dey may like dis fun ; but give a good soun' rest, widout 
champagne to put me to sleep, and real pain to wake me in 
de mornin'. {Goes tip, and puts back curtains ; opens doors; 
tzvo shot's in succession outside; Tom drops his feet, and sits 
tip, rubbing his eyes ; Gilbert wakes with a start.) 

Gilbert. Villain ! you shall not escape me ! {Runs 7ip, 
and seises AsA by throat; AsA falls on his knees.) I have 
you now ! 

Asa {friqhtened). Das a fac'. Don't strike, Massa Gil- 
bert ! 

{Enter DiCK, c, with gun) 

Dick. Hallo ! hallo ! What's up now .? (Gilbert stag- 
gers back to L., glaring at Dick ; Asa rises) 

Asa. I is, Massa Dick. 

Dick. Why, Gil, have you seen a ghost ? or do you take 
me for one ? 



BETTER THAN GOLD, 49 

Gilbert. What have you been douig with that pistol ? 

Dick. Pistol? Ha, ha, ha! that's a good one; don't 
know your own duck-gun. It's a duck of a gun, 1 can tell 
you. {Takes off bag.) Dead shot every time. I've had won- 
derful luck while you were sleeping off the effect of last 
night's carouse. Gil, I didn't know your head was so weak. 

Gilbert. I sleeping? I ? then it was a horrid nightmare, 
after all ! {Comes down^ L.) Heaven be praised ! {Laughs 
wildly.) It was but a dream. 

Tom. As it is getting late, I would like to rise, if some- 
body will lend me a helping hand. 

Dick {tosses bag to Asa). Ah, Tom! are you there? 
{Comes down., atid gives hand to Tom.) Now, one, two, 
three. {Raises Jiim) There you are. 

Tom. Oh, ho! I'm as stiff as a poker. {Moves about 
with difficulty.) Have I been sleeping in this room all 
night ? 

Asa. Dat's so ; and dat's de 7'heumatiz in de mornin'. 

Gilbert. Asa, remove that wreck at once. {Points to 
table.) 

Asa. Vas, Massa Gilbert : I reckon I will. {Exit with 
tray, door r.). 

Dick. You look as though you had passed a bad night, 
Gilbert. 

Gilbert. Heaven preserve me from such another, Dick ! 
I have lived two frightful years in one night. I dreamed I 
was master of Gilroy, Belle my wife, and you my evil genius. 

Dick. Oh, come, come ! that's not complimentary to me. 

Gilbert. We were a luckless pair; we hated each other. 
You won from me all I possessed, made me a beggar, and 
then, then — 

Dick. Well, what then ? 

Gilbert. I killed my wife. O Dick, Dick ! I would 
not live that hideous time again, even in a dream, to be mas- 
ter of the world. {Crosses to r.) 

Dick. Oh, never mind ! a cocktail will set you all right. 

Gilbert. No. I've drank my first aftd last glass with 
you. Tempt me not again, or I shall forget old friendship, 
and look upon you as my deadly foe. {Crosses to L.) 

Dick. I will remember {aside) wine didn't work. 

Tom {sittiftq on ottoman, holding his head). Oh, my head, 
niv head ! I believe it would crack open if it wasn't so thick. 



50 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

Dick. Better try a cocktail, Tom. 

Tom. No, I thank you. I've had quite enough of the 
dog that bit me. 

Dick. Gil, you had better get your breakfast ; we had 
ours an hour ago. 

Gilbert. Indeed ! Do they know of this ? 

Dick. Nothing. I'm too old a head to split. 

Gilbert. Come, Tom. {Goes up to door R.) You are 
sure, Dick, Annie knows nothing of last night's carouse .'' 
(Tom goes up c.) 

Dick. It's all right, I tell you. 

Gilbert. Come, Tom. {E/ifcr Mrs. Garfield door 
R.) Ah ! good morning, Mrs. Garfield. 

Mrs. G. Good morning, Gilbert. 

Gilbert. Have you quite recovered ? 

Mrs. G. Recovered.'* Why, I never was sick in my life : 
is the man dreaming } 

Gilbert.' No — yes — I — {aside) that horrid dream! 
Come, Tom. {Exit door r.) 

Tom. I feel like a fool, just like me. {Exit door R.) 

Mrs. G. {comes down). Dick, I am glad Ifo have a 
moment alone with you. 

Dick. That's kind, Mrs. Garfield. You and I were al- 
ways good friends : many and many a time you have taken 
my part when the old man and I quarrelled. {Takes her hatid, 
and leads her to the lounge.) Come, sit down. {SJie sits : he 
throws himself on the carpet, resting on his hand, and looking 
up at her.) Ah! this is quite like old times, when I was a 
boy, and lay at your feet, and you told me \vondei"ful stories. 

Mrs. G. {places her hand upon his head). Ah, my boy! 
that was many years ago. All is changed now. I'm sorry, 
Dick, you have'been cut off from any share in your father's 
wealth. 

Dick {with a sigh). Yes, it is rather sorrowful to me. 

Mrs. G, I hardly expected it, for his last words were of 
you. 

Dick {stirprised). Of me? 

Mrs. G. Yes, Dick. "Tell my boy," he said, "if ever 
he comes back to the old home, that my last wish was that 
he was at my side to close my eyes, my last wish was for his 
happiness, my last prayer that he would forgive m.e for all 
my unkindness to him." 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 5 1 

Dick. Mrs. Garfield, — mother, — I used to call you 
mother, — did he say that of me ? He said " my boy : " did 
he mean me ? 

Mrs. G. Yes, he said " my boy Dick." 

Dick. Heaven bless him for that ! Heaven bless him for 
that ! (Banes /lis /ace in Mrs. Garfield's Zap.) 

Mrs. G. (strokes his head). Poor boy, it's a pity you and 
your father did not better understand each other. It's too 
late now. Ah ! 1 thought that with his returning Tove for 
you, he might have remembered you when he made his will. 

Dick (rises). He remembered me in his dear old heart, — 
me, whom he might have cursed with his dying breath, and 
done no wrong. I am content now. Mother, let others 
have his riches : I have his forgiveness, his blessing, and 
that, from a man whose heart I have wrung with my evil 
passions, is better than gold. (Crosses L.) 

Mrs. G. (rising). Dick, my boy, I am proud of you. 
That little flash of the old Gordon fire tells me it will yet 
make a blaze in the world. Don't be discouraged, if you 
are poor. I am rich, thanks to your father's bounty; and 
every dollar he left me shall be yours, as it should have 
been had you been fairly dealt with. 

Dick. No, no, Mrs. Garfield ! I have no right. 

Mrs. G. Tut, tut, boy! have you not called me mother? 
and think you a mother would see her son wronged ? No, 
no, I'll not touch one penny : remember that. (Exit door r. 

Dick. Dear old lady ! I believe she would do all she 
says, were I mean enough to accept her sacrifice. No, 
never ! 

(Enter Belle, door l.) 

Belle. Good-morning, once more, Dick. Did you have 
good luck with your shooting ? 

Dick (moodily). Tolerable. 

Belle. Grumpy, I declare ! Did you meet any bears, 
that you growl so .'' 

Dick. Belle, listen to me a moment. This will — should 
Gilbert ask you to be his wife, what would be your answer "i 

Belle. Should he ask me .'' Do you think he will.' 

Dick. Undoubtedly. A great fortune and a pretty 
wom^n are two prizes in the lottery of life a man would find 
hard to decline. 

Belle. If I refuse him, I lose my share of the fortune. 
If I accept, I lose you. What do you advise ? 



52 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

Dick. Accept him. 

Belle. Dick ! then you no longer love me. 

Dick. More than ever, Belle. 

Belle. Indeed ! Then what scheme have you to be ad- 
vanced by this marriage "i 

Dick. None, Belle. I am done with scheming. Gil 
Murdoch is a noble fellow, you a born lady. You would be 
happy in each other; while I — I — am a young vagabond. 
I should make your life miserable by my follies, drag you 
down from your high estate to want and beggary at last. 

Belle. Why, Dick, what is this ? You never spoke in' 
this way before. What has happened ? 

Dick. I have received a message from the dead, Belle. 
There could be but one reason for that strange provision. 
My father wished it, had set his heart upon it. Let us think 
of that. Belle. I'm sure Gilbert will, and accept it as a sacred 
trust. 

Belle. Your father, Dick ? can you respect the wish of a 
man who turned you from his doors '^ 

Dick. He forgave me, Belle, with his dying breath. Had 
I been j^atient, had I known his dear old heart better, how 
different it might have been ! He might have been proud of 
me ; and if the dead can, as we are told, look down upon us, 
he shall be proud of me yet. It was his wish. Belle : remem- 
ber that, and, as you hope for peace, regard it. {Exit door r.) 

Belle. Strange ! Did he read my thoughts ? Did he 
know I would accept Gilbert, and so think — No, no ! 
there was earnestness in his voice, and deep feeling in his 
face. I must think befoi'e I act. 

{Enter Annie, door R.) 

Annie. Belle, will you let me ask you a question? 

Belle {comes up^ and puts her arm abotit her waist). A 
dozen if you please. What is it? 

Annie. Belle, when Gilbert asks you to be his wife, what 
will be your answer? 

Belle {aside). Again! {Aloud) You silly child ! mod- 
est women never have their answer to such a proposal ready 
beforehand. 

Annie. You like him. Belle, better than you did — when 
— when — 

Belle. When he asked me to marry him. Oh you 
heard that story — and from his lips, I'll warrant. 



BETTER THAN GOLD. 53 

A\NIE. Yes, I have heard it. O Belle ! do not refuse 
him this time. He is good and noble : you will be very 
happy with him. 

Belle. Do you think so ? 

Annie. I ani sure of it. 

Belle. Why are you so anxious to have me accept him ? 
You must have some reason. 

Annie. You would be penniless if you refused, Belle. 

Belle. Is there no other reason for your speaking? 

Annie. Yes. I thought — that is — perhaps you might 
have thought, that as he has paid me some little attention of 
late — there might be — O Belle ! I only care for him as a 
brother. I would die for him, and it would mortify him so 
to be refused again. 

Belle ijuigs her dose). You silly little goose ! Never 
fear, Annie. I'll accept him, to please you : ycu ere sure it 
would please you ? 

Annie {slowly). Yes. 

Belle (/(XW^Ztj;). To please you — here he comes. {Goes 
up c. Enter Gilbert, door r.) 

Gilbert. Annie, I have been looking — 

Annie. For Belle ? there she is. 

Belle. I'll be back presently. {E::it c.) 

Gilbert. No, Annie, for you. 

Annie. I have something to s^y*^-: yoj, Gilbert, that I 
should have said last nighi : so before >ou speak let me have 
a word. I am glad of your good fortune. Belle is a dear 
good girl, and would m?ke axvj man happy: the provision in 
that will should not be iiguily treated. Mr. Gordon wished 
it, and you two were meant for each other. 

Gilbert. Thank you, Annie, for your kind words. And 
you think, as an honorable man, I have no right to decline 
the alliance proposed ? 

A'^yiiE. {after a pause). Yes. 

Gilbert. I am glad to find you so sensible, Annie. Some 
people believe that a union of hearts is what constitutes a 
true marriage ; but it is now understood that a proper respect 
to the wishes of others is preferable to that sentimental non- 
sense. Ah, Annie ! you are an excellent counsellor. Here 
comes Belle : I will act at once. 

Annie. I will leave you together. {Goes R.) 

Gilbert. No, stay, and see how well I follow your advice. 



54 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

{Enter Belle a7id Dick, ar)7t in arm, c.) 

Gilbert. Belle, can I have a word with you ? (Belle 
comes down c, Dick remains back. Annie talks with 
Dick.) 

Belle. Certainly, Gilbert. 

Gilbert. I am anxious that there should be no further 
anxiety among us, concerning the provision of Mr. Gordon's 
will. 

Belle. Yes, Gilbert ; and you are about to propose — 

Gilbert. A settlement. (Tom and Jennie appear, 
door c.) I congratulate you on your accession to this fine 
estate. Although I have received advice to the contrary, I 
decline to offer my hand without my heart. 

Dick. What, are you mad? 

Belle. And I will not be outdone in generosity by you. 
I decline the offer you were expected to make ; and so the 
will is broken. 

Dick {cojnes doivn l.). Belle, what have you done ? 

Belle {^^ives Jiim her hajid). Been true to myself, Dick, in 
spite of the temptation, thinks to you. 

Dick. You're a noble girl. But who inherits now.'' 

Tom [comes down c. Annie and Jennie dack). I. 

All. You ! 

Tom. Yes. (Takes out wi/l, and reads). "In case the 
Slid Gilbert Murdoch and the said Belle Gordon mutually 
decline to marry, I bequeath all my estate, real and personal, 
after my just debts and the legacies herein mentioned have 
been paid, to Thomas Payson and his heirs forever." That 
looks like it. 

(Enter Peter, c, wit/i bag?) 

Dick. Then you are the heir. What luck ! 

Tom. Just like me. Yes, I am proud to say, I am mas- 
ter of Gilroy. 

Peter (comes door c.) That's false. 

Tom. The governor ! (Goes R.) 

Peter. You master of Gilroy? Humbug! How did 
you find that out ? 

Tom. By this will, which I found where you could not, in 
the box marked " G." My eyes were sharper than yours. 

Peter. Let me see it. (Takes will.) H'm ! pity your 
wits were not as sharp as your eyes. This is rubbish, five 
years old : there is another. 



BETTER THAN GOLD, 55 

Gilbert atid Dick. Another will ! 

Peter. Yes, signed by Mr. Gordon three weeks ago. 

Jennie {k. pic lis Tom's sleeve). Blundered again, Tom. 

Tom. Just like me. 

Peter. The last will was confided to the care of Mr. 
Tom Payson. Now, sir, where is it.'' 

Tom. I tell you I placed it in the box marked " G." 

Peter. Did you ? Here is the envelope you placed there. 
Vv''ould you like to know its contents .'' (S/wws envelopes.) 

Tom. Certainly 1 should. 

Peter. Very well. {Takes out paper, atid reads), — 

" Ye Muses now, my tongue employ, 
To sing the charms of Jennie Joy." 

Jennie. Good gracious ! 

Tom. Ye gods and little fishes ! {Tliutups his head.) 

Peter {reads) : — 

"-Ye tuneful wai^blers, joyous swell 
In praise of her 1 love so well." 

Bah ! what stuff ! 
{Reads) : — 

" The purest gold without alloy 
Is dross beside my Jennie Joy." 

Now, sir, what have you to say to that ? 

Tom. Guilty, with a recommendation to mercyi 

Peter. Now, sir, where's the will ? 

Tom. I have it. Those verses were intended for the 
editor of "The Gilroy Clarion;" and he must have the will 
by mistake. I'll run and get it. {Takes hat from table, and 
comes down, c.) Very queer. {About to put on hat ; looks 
in it; then slowly looks at other characters; theji info hat 
again; whistles, and takes f/'om hat an envelope.) Just like 
me. 

Peter. Well, sir, have you found it? 

Tom. Here it is. {Hands will; Peter opens it, and 
looks at it. Enter Asa, door c. ; Mrs. Garfield, door r.) 

Peter. This is the last will and testament of Gilbert 
Gordon. As I am in a hurry, I will postpone the formal 
reading of it until evening. The old gentleman was very 
kind to you all. Legacies of two thousand dollars each are 



56 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

bequeathed to Mrs. Garfield, Tom Payson, and Annie Gar- 
field ; thirty thousand to Belle Gordon. Let me see : one 
other ? {Looks around^) 

Asa. Was yer looking for me, Massa Richard ? 

Peter. Oh, yes! Asa, a thousand dollars. 

Asa. Thousand dollars for dis ole darky ! Bress my 
soul ! Dat's fine. Oh, dat good ole man ! 1 always loved 
him. Thousand dollars ! Poor ole man ! 

Peter. There are a few other legacies ; and the bulk of 
the estate is divided equally between his two sons. 

All. Two sons ! 

Peter. Yes : one known as Richard Gordon, the son of 
his first wife ; the other, the child of his second marriage 
(he was privately married), known here as Gilbert Murdoch. 

(Dick and Gilbert clasp hands wannly in c of stage : 
each exclaims;, '■'Brother P'') 

Peter (r. c.) Yes, brothers : all shall be explained in 
good time. By the provision of this will, you, Gilbert, are to 
hold and keep Gilroy. And now I must run. I v/ill meet 
you again this evening. {Exit c.) {Partitions : Gilbert 
and Dick, c. ; Annie and Belle, l. ; Mrs. Garfield, r. 
c. ; Jennie, r. ; Tom bstzvccn her an^' Mrs. Garfield ; 
Asa back.) 

Dick. Gil, old boy, I congratulate you o -'. your good 
fortune. You will do credit to the old home. 

Gil. We share and slu;/e alike : the house is large 
enough for both. We will have no division. 

Dick. All right ; but you iSQ the master of Gilroy. 

Mrs. G. Fm glad of it, Gilbert; you will make a nt)ble 
master. Here are my keys. {Gives Aej's.) You will want a 
younger housekeeper now .'' 

Gilbert. Do you think so? Perhaps it would be better. 
Annie ! (Annie crosses to hint; Dick goes to Belle.) 
You hear your mother's words. Will you take her place in 
my house ? 

Annie. If you wish it, Gilbert. {Holds ont hand f or 
keys.) 

Gilbert {taking her hand). No: you shall not rob her 
of her place. You must be the mistress of my home, as you 
have long been the mistress of my heart. Take your keys, 
mother. {Gives keys to Mrs. G.) Our lady of Gilroy desires 
it. Am I not right, Annie 1 



BETTER THAN GOLB. 57 

AxNiE. But what is to become of Belle ? 

Belle {gayly). Oh ! never mind if she is left out in the 
cold. 

Dick. No ; for there's a warm corner in my heart, wait- 
ing to receive her. O Belle, you're a trump ! 

Belle. No, I am not. I've had a hard struggle to con- 
quer myself. But you helped me, Dick; and 1 shall love 
you as long as I live. {Gives hand.) 

Dick {kisses her hand). Heaven bless you, Belle ! 

Tom {to Jennie). They are pairing off. What should 
you say if I talked to you in that way ? 

Jennie. That you were blundering, as usual. 

Tom. I have made a mess of it, Jennie, and no mistake. 
Why don't you say yes, at once, and keep me out of mis- 
chief ? 

Jennie. For a very good reason : you have never asked 
me. 

Tom. I never asked you .'' 

Jennie. No: you have beaten about the bush, but never 
called the bird. ' 

Tom. Just like me. Then, Jennie, will you marry me ? 
Will you say yes, at once .'' 

Jennie. Yes, at once. It's just like me. 

Gilbert. Asa. 

Asa. Yas, Massa Gilbert. 

Gilbert. You will have the old wine-vault cleared at 
once of its contents. Let all the liquors be poured into the 
river. 

Dick. What, Gilbert, all those glorious stores ? 

Gilbert. Every thing. If you and I, Dick, hope for peace 
in this world, we must banish that portion of our inheritance 
forever. That glorious wine has shown me in hideous 
dreams what might have been ; and I could not sleep in 
peace beneath this roof with that evil spirit about me. 

Dick. All right, Gilbert: I am satisfied. I've seen the 
time I would have sold my soul for one fiery draught. I 
hope that time is past. Let it go : better so. With land and 
gold in plenty we can be happy. 

Gilbert. Gold and lands.'' will those make you happy, 
Annie ? 

Annie. Y?s : for thev are yours, Gilbert, — rich gifts that 
generous hearts can well display. You will be no miser 
with vour wealth. 



58 BETTER THAN GOLD. 

Gilbert. No : we will have no hun2;ry mouths or aching 
hearts on our estate. So you are happy. Yet you would 
have given me up ? 

Annie. Because I feared I stood in the way of your suc- 
cess; I fancied, — I know not what. 

Gilbert. You have no fears now ? 

Annie. No. With your love, I fear nothing. It is the 
realization of a dream. 

Gilbert. The dreams of innocence are ever bright and 
joyous. 'Tis uneasy conscience fills disturbed slumbers 
with hideous visions. Happy the man who wakes to feel 
misery is but a dream; that truth and honor are the germs 
of happiness ; and, best of all, that true love is better than 
gold. 

Situation. 

L. C. R. 

Asa, Dick, Belle, Gilbert, Annie, Mrs. G., Tom, Jennie. 

Curtain. 



Electrotyped and printed by Rand, Avery, &' Co., Boston. 



"Books that our Teachera ought to have on band to SFICS US' with now aM 
len." — St. Louis Journal of Education. 



G-EO. 1^. B.A.I5:EI?.'S 



Selections in I*rose and Poetry^ 

Serious, Humorous, Pathetic, Patriotic, and Dramatic. FRESH 

and ATTRACTIVE PIECES for SCHOOL SPEAKERS 

and READING CIRCLES. 

In the words of the Gospel Banner, — 

' From qrave to got/, from lively to severe,' 

Inpoetnj and pro.'<e ajudicioits mixture here? 

Beside outlandish dialects, Jull of words odd and queer^ 

Which stir one's sense of humor as they fall upon the ear, 

Pleasant to those who read or speak as unto those who hear. 

Published in Parts, each Part containing Fifty Selections. Paper Covers, 15 
cents each. Printed on Fine Paper, and Handsomely Bound in Clotli, pricey 
60 cents each. 

■ 1 ■>• I 

E,EA.I3I3SrO CXjXJB I^O. 1. 

''We have many readers and books that purport to furnish pieces for the use 
of amateur speakers and juvenile orators. But the great defect in nearly all of 
them is, that their selections are made from the same series of authors. We are 
surfeited ad najiseatn with 'The boy stood on the burning deck,' 'On Linden, 
when the sun was low,' 'My name is Norval ! ' or, ' My voice is still for war.' 
But in this volume, the first of a series, Mr. Baker deviates from the beaten 
track, and furnishes some fifty selections which have not been published before 
in any collection of readings. Mr. Baker has himself written many pieces for the 
amateur stage, and achieved a reputation as a public reader, so that he is eminently 
qualified by his own experience for the task of teaching others." — Phil. Age. 

E.E.A.3DIIsrC3- CLXJB KTO. 3. 

"Mr. Baker deserves the thanks of the reading public for his indefatigable 
endeavors in the field of light and agreeable literature. The selections are made 
with good taste, and the book will be of great value for its indicated purpose." — 
■Ne-cv Haven Courier. 

" In its adaptation to day schools, seminaries, colleges, and home reading, the 
work will be found very superior in its variety and adaptability of contents."^ 
Dayton [Ohio') Press. 

E,EA.IDi:iSrC3- CLXJIi I>TO- 3. 

"This is one of those books that our teachers ought to have at hand to spice 
uf> with now and then. This is No. 3 of the series, and they are all brim full 
i)f short articles, serious, humorous, pathetic, patriotic, and dramatic. Send and 
get one, and you will be sure to get the rest." — St. Louis Journal 0/ Educa- 
tion, Jan. 1S76. 

"The young elocutionist will find it a convenient pocket companion, and the 
general reader derive much amusement at odd moments from its perusal." — 
Forest -"^d Strea7n, N. V., Jan. 6, 1S76. 

ja3EJLX>IISrca- CX>XJB asrO- 4. iJust Seadi/.y 



Soldhy all Booksellers, and sent by mail, postpaid, on receipt of prict. 

LEE & SHEFAUD, Publishers, Boston. 



*' The whole art of elocution is succinctly set forth in this small 
volume, which might be judiciously included among the text- 
books of schools." — New-Orleans Picayune. 

ELOCUTIOl^MPLIFIED, 

WITH AN APPENDIX ON 

LISPING, STAMIERIM, Al OTHER IMPEDIiWS OF SPEECH, 

BY WALTER K. FOBES, 
Graduate of the "Boston School of Oratory." 

Cloth. 1 6mo 50 cents. 



"It is a book that is admirably fitted to be used as a text-book 
in our public schools, and, if introduced, would certainly lead to a 
marked improvement in that much-neglected art, — the art of read- 
ing and speaking well. The volume contains an Introduction by 
George M. Baker, author of the Eeading-Club Series, which might 
be read with advantage by clergymen, students, teachers, singers, 
speakers, lawyers, and all persons who have a taste for reading, 
and who consider reading aloud in the social or home circle as 
one of the most instructive, pleasing, and healthful pastimes in 
which we can indulge. Defective speech, as lisping, stammering, 
stuttering, &c., can be entirely cured by a steady and diligent 
practice of elocution. Unpleasant voices — either shrill, nasal, 
throaty, husky, or with any other disagreeable quality — can be 
made agreeable by practice of elocution ; and, as an aid in this 
matter, "'Elocution Simplified' is, without doubt, one of the best 
books ever offered to the public to accomplish the desired result. 
The book, which is made up in ninety-four pages, is divided into 
four parts, — Physical GjTnnastics, Vocal Gymnastics, Elocution, 
and Hints on Elocution ; and each part contains a set of rules that 
are most explicit in their relations to the subject treated of. The 
book is designed as a companion to Baker's Beading Club, but can 
be studied in any connection with much profit." — Manchester 
Mirror. 

"This volume is, as it claims, an epitome of elocution. In the 
estimation of all, good reading is an accomplishment, and should 
be made a daily drill in every school and college. This book is 
compact, free of every thing that is not essential; and we heartily 
commend it." — Chicago Inter-Ocean. 

" Full of just what is useful to make good readers and speak- 
ers." — Albany Times. 

2[^= " Any one who will carefully study and practise the teach- 
ings of this book will be able to greatly improve their reading and 
speaking." — Independent. 

Sold by all booksellers, and sent by mail, postpaid, on 
receipt of price. 

LEE & SHEPARD. Publishers, Boston. 



COMPILED BY HIMSELF. 
Com-prishig the Famous American Readings. 

In Neat Paper Covers. Price, 15 cts. Each. 

NICHOLAS NICKLEBY (at the Yorkshire School), 
THE STORY OF LITTLE DOMBFY. 
MR. BOB SAWYER'S PARTY. 
A CHRISTMAS CAROL. 
DR. MARIGOLD. 

BOOTS AT THE HvjLLY TREE INN. 
NICHOLAS NICi<LEBY (short reading). 
BARDELL AND PICKWICK. 
DAVID COPPERFIELD. 
MRS. GAIV1?. 
This style, for the use of readers and schools, is worih_; ofexamination. 
Also, in one handsome i2mo volume, illustrated. $1.50. 



The Ittdefeiident Household Dickens. 

CHARLES DICKEHS'S ffOBKS. 

A new editi07t in fifteen X2mo vols. Elegajitly bound and handsomely 

illustrated. 

Price per Volume, $1.50. 



DAVID COPPERFIELD. 

PICKWICK PAPERS. 

DOMBEY AND SON. 

OLD CURIOSITY SHOP. 

OLIVER TWIST. 

CHRISTMAS STORIES. 
5 EDWIN DROOD. 
^CHILD'S HIST. OF ENG. 



TALE OF TWO CITIES. 
NICHOLAS NICKLEBY. 
LITTLE DORRITT. 
BLEAK HOUSE. 
GREAT EXPECTATIONS. 
OUR MUTUAL FRIEND. 
MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT. 
BARNABY RUDGE. 



In issuing this new edition, which will be furnished either in sets 
or separate volumes, the publishers offer the best edition for the price 
in the market. 



LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, 

41-45 FRANKLIN ST., BOSTON, 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



i^ 



flky^ fof Sii\ktetL 




015 785 391 
BY CEORCE M. uaivck. 

Author of '■'■AmatKur Dramas," " The Mimic Stage" " The Social Stage," " The Drawing- Room 
Stage," " Eandy Dramas," " The Exhibition Drama," "^ Bakers Dozen," &c. 

Titles In this Type are Tlexir Flays. 

Titles in this Type are Temperance Plays. 



DEAMAS. 

In Three Acts. Cis. 

The Flo^ver of the Family, s 

male, 3 female char 

Enlisted for the War. 7 male, 3 fe- 
male characters 

My Brother's Keeper, s male, 3 fe- 
male char 

The Zittle Brown Jug, 5 male, 3 

female char 

In Two Acts. 

Above the Clouds. 7 male, 3 female 
characters 

One Hundred Tears Ago. 7 male, 
4 female char. 

Among the Breakers. 6 male, 4 female 
char ■ . . . 

Bread on the Waters, s male, 3 female 
char. 

Down by the Sea. 6 male, 3 female 
char '5 

Once on a Time. 4 male, 2 female char. 15 

The Last Loaf. 5 male, 3 female char. 
O In One Act. 

Stand by the Flag. 5 male char . « . 15 

The Tempter, 3 male, i female char. 15 

COMEDIES AlTD FAUCES. 

A Mysterious Disappearance. 4 

male, 3 female char 

Paddle Tour Own Canoe, ymale, 

3 female char. / * ,* 

A. brop too Much. 4 male, 2 female 

characters • 

JL Little More Cider. 5 male, 3 fe- 
male char • • 

A Thorn Among the Roses. 2 male, 6 

female char. • • iS 

Never Say Die. 3 male, 3 female char. 15 
Seeing the Elephant. 6 male, 3 female 

char • • IS 

The Boston Dip. 4 male, 3 female char. 15 
The Duchess of Dublin. 6 male, 4 fe- 
male char 

Thirty Minutes for Refreshments, 

4 male, 3 female char 

We're all Teetotalers. 4 male, 2 fe^ 

male char •• 

Male Characters Only. 

A Close Shave. 6 char iS 

A Public Benefactor. 6 char iS 

A Ska of Troubles. 8 char iS 

A Tender Attachment. 7 char. ... iS 

C0AI.S of Fire. 6 char iS 

Freedom of thr Press. 8 char. ... 15 



COMEDIES, %c., continued. 

Shall Our Mothti^rs VoteP 11 char. 
Gentlemen of the Jury. 12 char. . . 
Humors of the Strike. 8 char. . . 
My Uncle the Captain. 6 char. . . 
New Brooms Sweep Clean. 6 char. . 

The Great Elixir. 9 char 

The Hypochondriac, s char 

The Man with the Dentijohn. 4 

char. ... 

The Runaways. 4 char 

The Thief of Time. 6 char 

Wanted, a Male Cook. 4 char. . . • 

Femali Characters Only. 
A Love of a Bonnet, s char. . . . 

A Precious Pickle. 6 char 

No Cure no Pay. 7 char. 

The Champion of Her Sex. 8 char. . 
The Greatest Plague in Life. 8 cha. 

The Grecian Bend. 7 char 

The Red Chignon. 6 char. .... 
Using the Weed. 7 char 



ALLEQORIES. 

Arranged for Music and Tableaux. 
Lightheart's Pilgrimage. 8 female 

char 

The Revolt of the Bees. 9 female 

char 

The Sculptor's Triumph. 1 male, 4 fe- 

maSe char 

The Tournament of Idylcourt. 10 

female char. 

The War ok the Roses. S female char. 

MUSICAL AND DRAMATIC. 

An Original Idea. 1 male, 1 female 
char, • 

Bonbons ; or, the Paint King. 6 male, 
1 female char. 

Capuletta; or, Romeo and Julut 
Restored. 3 male, i female char. . 

Santa Claus' Frolics. ...... 

Snow-bound; or, Alonzo the Brave 
and the Fair Imogene. 3 male, x 
female char • • 

The Merry Christmas of the Old 
Woman who lived in a Shoe. . . 

The Pedler of Very Nick, 7 male 

The Seven Ages. A Tableau Entertain- 
ment. Numerous male and female char. 

Too Late for thk Train, a male char. 

The Visions of Freedom, h female 
char. 



Jrkedom of thb r-KHSi. o v."«» a — -- „ t t' e\^ n^-a^^ 

y ^ Geo. M. BsKer £ Co, 4l-4b Franklin St. Boston. ^ 



Baker's Humorous DiaJogues. Male ch«acte«oiJy. » «nt* 
Baker's Humorous plaloftuea.- Femai. chwMtw. only. » 



